Tales From Andraste's Herald
by IIAMasterSHenson
Summary: SPOILERS. Collections of recollections of the 31 year old Herald Zanrye Levallan and his dealings with the Inquisition and the clan he left behind. Evlish male Herald story. Both the character and avatar are from my personal gameplay. Helpful content at the end of each chapter. Reviews and critiques VERY welcome
1. The Hole In The Sky (Introducing Zanrye)

HAVEN

He wasn't even supposed to be there. Damned Keeper had sent him there against his will. He was to be a protector of the Levellan clan, not an ambassador or watcher in the night. But yet there he was—and here he is now.

In chains. He looked around the dark cellar, barely conscious still except for the throbbing pain in his left hand. That and his awareness of the four or so guards pointing swords at him. He felt the bitterness enter him once more. It was true, Lana, and Ponawen, and Zanrye were here to spy on the proceedings more so than interact with the Templars or mages but that was beside the point. Zanrye wasn't supposed to have gone at all to the conclave. He was sent last minute to escort Lana, the keeper's first, and Ponawen—mastering the longbow, a fellow hunter. After the original second guardsmen Kaynala had gotten sick, Zanrye had been the defaulted pick.

The door in front of him opened. Two shadowy figures appraised him before they stepped forward into the light to reveal themselves. A black-haired shem and a hooded shem. The black haired one circled him as the guards resheathed their swords. Zanrye tensed before he felt her draw near to his ear.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." She spoke in a Nevarran accent. "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead…except…for you." The accusation was clear.

She stopped before him and Zanrye looked her over better for a moment but said nothing. He wouldn't give these shems anything. He was trapped and defenseless as it was and he wasn't going to incriminate himself. The woman grabbed roughly at his wrist, jerked up his chained arm, and replied, "Explain this," before dropping his arm back down to his side. The green surging had come back and Zanrye found his tongue.

"I…can't." He said begrudgingly.

"What do you mean, you can't!?'" the woman shot back at him.

"I mean that I don't know what that is or how it got there—" Zanrye replied testily, but his anger was fading. She wanted to talk. Or so he thought. She cut him off, lunged at him, and placed a nearly shaking, firm grip on his shoulders with hands that told him she wanted to bring him pain.

"You're lying!" She cried, and was pulled away by the other hooded woman.

"We need him Cassandra," She said plainly and both women looked back at him. Zanrye held level with them. His anger had flared but he at least understood one thing—that both women were searching for answers for something he didn't even know about. And he told them so.

"I don't understand." He admitted tiredly, cutting his eyes away.

"Do you remember what happened," The other woman asked, "how this began?"

"I remember running…," Zanrye continued, trying to recollect. He scoured his memories, "th-things were chasing me…and then—a woman."

"A woman?" This seemed to garner a more positive response from the women.

"She…reached out to me," Zanrye continued, a headache forming in his mind. "But then—" He sighed, having no more. He remembered that figure—the hand. The giant spiders that terrorized his darkest nightmares coming after him. The sliver of memory was enough to make him shudder with fear. And become closed off. He barely heard them talking before he was being unchained. Surprised, he eyed at Cassandra.

"So what did happen?" He half asked, half demanded. She didn't answer at first, wrenching him to his feet.

"It…will be easier to show you," she said, pulling him forward and out of the darkness of the cellar into the pale light of the early evening. Zanrye had to blink repeatedly, looking around at the snow covered mountains. That was before his eyes were directed towards the enormous pit in the middle of the sky.

Zanrye couldn't breathe for a moment as he saw it, fear piercing deep into his chest. He swallowed and found that he was transfixed. Clouds and lightning billowed around it and a green light glowed within it, descending onto the world from its center.

"We call it the breach," Cassandra explained. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift—just the largest. All caused by the explosion at the conclave."

"An explosion can do that?" Zanrye had to blink to close his eyes, which had grown wide.

"This one did." Cassandra answered. "Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world." Zanrye turned away from her, eyes directed back at the breach. It was a world's worth of trouble quite literally. It was a danger to everyone and everything.

One moment, he was gazing and the next he fell to his knees in agony as electricity hot and strong swept through his veins, rendering him unable to stand. Pain pulled him down and he heard himself cry out. _Creators! What the hell was this_!?

"Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads." Cassandra spoke to him urgently. "And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn't much time." Zanrye glared at her, trying to wrench his jaw apart as the pain throbbed more dully now that the attack had passed.

"You say it may be the key." He accused, "the key to what?"

"Closing the breach." Cassandra said. "Whether that's possible is something we will discover shortly. It is our only chance however. And yours." Zanrye understood it now. It was as if a fog had been lifted from his mind. He worked through the events in his mind, piecing the links together: he had been marked by the breach, it was killing him as it grew. Even if he wasn't, it would kill him some time later when it destroyed the rest of the world. And he was the only one who could 'close it.' Zanrye was scared and he was tired. He felt anger again—from bitterness. He wanted to hit something. Fucking Creators, he wasn't even supposed to have been here! But now he had to try or he wouldn't be alive too much longer to ponder his circumstance. He'd be dead before he even reached his clan. The path was clear.

"I don't really have a choice about this." Zanrye finally said, as Cassandra kept waiting on him to speak. Her eyes narrowed and her tone flattened out.

"None of us has a choice." She said somewhat angrily before yanking Zanrye to his feet once more and pushing him ahead. Zanrye didn't protest but just looked back out at the breach again, knowing he would be able to see it no matter how far ahead he walked. It was in his periphery now. But it was still there. He looked down at his hand. It would now always be there. He was carrying it with him.

* * *

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Zanrye was sprawled out, contorted on his bedroll, brown/goldish hair flopping every which way—his frizzy, somewhat kinky waves turning into knots. He snored, peaceful, traveling deep into the fade and having flashes of a dream where he was trekking through the forests they had left behind near Antiva. Everything there smelled a little more earthy, with distinct emphasis on leather and polish. He'd loved it. He'd loved the game around there as well. Some he even let go, viewing them more as pets than prey. He'd feed them breads and even scraps of meat and sometimes for fun he'd feed them some of Antiva's famous brandy to see how they'd react.

"Come on, Rye." Nishia said seemingly for the third or fourth time. Zanrye groaned and turned away from her and the noise she was making. But she wasn't going to let him go so easily. She shook him.

"No." Zanrye pulled his cover over his head to block the girl out but she pulled it back.

"You were supposed to be up an hour ago." She said disapprovingly.

"It's so early, Nishia." Zanrye complained, still forcing his eyes open to look at his friend. She was an elf with a darker complexion, big round eyes, and dark hair. At 28, she was two years his senior. Her eyes were starkly grey-green. She was a bit wispier in frame than the other elves but that was offset but the firmness she had in her eyes and jaw. She was his best friend.

"And you told us you wanted to be a part of this." Nishia replied. "Everyone is out there already. Ponawen is retracing his steps. Hurry or we'll be too far for you to reach us in time."

She left his side. Zanrye stretched his arms and willed himself—with a severe grimace—to sit up. Yawns and more stretches came afterward as he sifted his way through bedroll, yesterday's tunic and trousers, a slip from the woman he'd slept with the night before, and a used ram intestine wrap to make his way to the tent's entrance. He pulled on his mostly fresh tunic and grabbed his leather breastplate from the tent's entrance where the woman had ripped it off the night before. He undid the ties, aware of the cool air rushing into the warm tent once more and found himself becoming awake more quickly.

Ponawen had found a cave yesterday. Nearly all the hunters had heard of it but only his friends were told of the time when he wanted to re-find it. Zanrye was first in line but had gotten drunk the night before and had forgotten, something his friend Ponawen yelled at him for as soon as he reached the small group.

"You finally rise! Smelling like death. 'thought she'd killed you in your sleep." The 34 year old elf said to him. Very fair with reddish hair and a compact frame, the man flashed a toothy grin at Zanrye who rolled his eyes.

"Knocked me out; not for good." Zanrye said shortly. "Besides, who'd protect you on the way to this cave you supposedly found?"

"I did find it." Ponawen smiled excitedly. "Wasn't stupid enough to go too far in but I did find it." He looked around. "Three…four…seven. Good. About eight, all we need."

"You need two." Nishia came up to them, placing a hand on Zanrye's shoulder. "You want an army because you are afraid."

"Like I said, I'm not stupid enough to go too far in—without a lot of support." Ponawen shrugged. "Anyway, I say head out now. We already have food in our packs—I packed yours. And we have weapons and water. No one has their camp patrol until tonight."

"Hope you had enough sleep." Nishia smirked at Zanrye who gave a grunt in response and picked up the pack that Ponawen held out for him.

They set off deep into the woods. The differing blends of brown and green meshed and muddled into a beautiful array of life and movement. Zanrye tried to remain by Ponawen's side, falling into step with him as they led the pack in a hunter-like manner at Ponawen's say-so. But he was released knowingly by Ponawen who asked him to scout ahead. He needed to be within the forest to do the most good. He let himself take the life in. He nearly knew all herbs by the slightest variation they had to one another. He had spent many days by their hearth sorting and organizing them for his mother when she was yet of the living. He knew how to know. It was what had made him such a good hunter in the first place—not his level of skill at tracking animals, working the bow or his greatsword, or even at the act of hunting animals or enemies. It was his ability to adapt. He worked with what he had and played to his strengths and sure enough, he managed to get the job done each and every time.

His mother had used to call him the embodiment of _Sylaise's_ blessings. His father had wanted him to have an affinity for _Mythal's_ wisdom instead, yet Zanrye knew very early that what he had within him. Upon his 19th year of life, he had made the declaration to the clan as well, gaining his _vallaslin_ in the image of modest patronage to the goddess _Sylaise_. Neither of his parents had been alive to see it.

Zanrye had been able to hear the muttering voice before he had even gotten close to the boy. He was seemingly looking for something around the area, walking on tiptoes though this effort was thwarted by his other bumbling about. Zanrye approached slowly, not readily recognizing this boy. But his clan was a rather big one so that could be expected. He had only taken a few steps when he heard a vaguely familiar sound. It was muted but….

Zanrye quickly hid behind a tree and peered about to catch the person who was unsheathing a sword from a sheath not necessarily metal. He caught sight of a disturbance in the seamless blend of color. Tan shirt. Red breeches. And….

"Shem." Zanrye saw. He felt his heart give that small tug it always did. There were three of them in fact. Shems, all armed possibly. He quickly blinked long so that he could still his breathing. He swallowed from a still-moist throat and looked to see if there were any more, determined not to let his fear overtake him. He saw another. And then another. Five total. Looked like a hunting party. Zanrye looked to the boy. He must be about 14 at most. And the shems seemed to be coming straight for him.

Zanrye took three steps backward and looked across the distance behind him, locking eyes with Nishia. She cocked a brow, taking up his rear with Ponawen and the others soon to follow. He gave her a sign with his fist—index finger and pinky pointed upward. He saw her stop and stiffen. He then flattened out his palm, all fingers upward to indicate they were behind him. Nishia nodded and turned to tell Ponawen and the others. Zanrye turned back to where the shems and the boy were. They had formed an arc in the cover of the trees beside his position. They were going to jump him. Zanrye looks behind him again desperately and sees Ponawen give him a look and then gesture to a tree, pulling out his bow noiselessly. Zanrye reaches behind himself and takes hold of the grip of his greatsword, slung behind his back, held by its hanging sheath. He inahles. He was afraid but that was of no consequence. He would always be afraid. Fear was not the problem: becoming paralyzed was. And that was what he would never be. Physically and outwardly, he was ready and determined. And angry.

The shems come out sooner than he thought they would. The boy hears them moments before and then scrambles to his feet and dashes towards Zanrye's group's trees. He is fast. The shems are faster, however. One lunges and misses him by a bit but another throws a dagger that sends the boy tripping over himself, headed for the ground as the blade sunk into his calf.

Ponawen's arrow zips past the boy and lands straight in the dagger-throwing shem's neckbone. The man begins to gurgle. Zanrye leaps out of his hiding place, his sword making the fearsome "sching" as he brings it to bear. The shems are surprised, unsure of whether to fight or flee. _Slow_ , Zanrye thinks, _they do not know themselves—or us_. As soon as he was in range, two had the common sense to try to run. As if from nowhere, Nishia's double-daggers came flying into one of them—sinking into his chest without any fuss and taking him down. The other man was chased by Ponawen's arrows. Zanrye's own blade found a female and sliced her torso nearly half open. It was swift.

"Please. Please don't hurt me." The last man—the one who'd jumped out after the boy—was begging as the rest of the party surrounded him. "We weren't gonna kill him. I—I swear. We was just lookin for shards—like he was."

"Shut up, shem!" The archer above him said, pulling her arrow even more taught in her bow.

"Please, please." He began to sob. Zanrye turned to him, his face dark. Nishia was back now and at his side.

"The other runner is dead." She said quickly.

"Then that just leaves him." Zanrye said more to himself, stepping forward. Ponawen was already standing over him. He turned as Zanrye came close.

"Onumay is looking at the kid's leg." He told Zanrye. "He said just by the look, he'll be fine. But he won't be able to walk on it for a few."

"We're only treasure hunters." The man said weakly, tears streaking his face still. "We only wanted the shards…."

Nishia's foot impacted his mouth, releasing a shriek of pain from him to end his please but start another round of sobbing. She frowned and turned to Ponawen.

"So, kill him or no?" She asked. Ponawen was considering evidently. They were not supposed to kill shems. Shems that went missing attracted attention. He almost looked bored.

"He's too close to our territory." He said finally. "Could tell the others shems where we are—"

"I promise I won't!" the man wailed, too afraid of them to try his pleading or reasonable tones again to bargain.

"Think shem promises mean anything to us?" Ponawen scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning back to his two friends.

"Even if he doesn't," Zanrye said hollowly, "He'll attract attention to the treasures here—also too close to our camp." Ponawen nodded.

"I—I'll do anything." The man tried one last time to beg for his life. "I just don't want to die…." He whimpered. "No one was going to die."

"Can we kill him and be done with this already?" Nishia asked, sucking her teeth in irritation.

Rather than answering her, Ponawen drew back his arrow in his bow. Upon seeing this, the man let out a loud scream instantly cut off by his skull being driven through by the weapon. Then there was finally silence.

"Alright. Let's find this cave." Nishia said. She looked back to the group. "I'll tell two to get the boy back."

She left and Ponawen turned to Zanrye who was looking off into the distance again—at the dead bodies of the shems and the beauty around them. Life around their corpses.

"You alright?" He asked. Zanrye did not answer right away. He just kept looking. The forest was vast and wide before them, beckoning them as it had no doubt done the shems. Difference was, the shems had come without proper tools.

"Rye?" Ponawen asked after some time. Zanrye turned back to him, eyes still clearing from the daze.

"Yeah, sorry." He said to his friend. "I'm fine. Just think we should get back to camp soon then. After we get to this cave and see what's in there."

"Hopefully it'll be worth all this trouble." Ponawen said.

"Hopefully." Zanrye agreed. There was a pause, full of the unsaid between them. But Ponawen knew. They hadn't expected to find shems out. They were prepared physically but not mentally. Especially not Zanrye.

"Alright, we can move." Nishia came back. She took a little more than a second to take in Zanrye and his condition before turning to Ponawen but addressing them both, "Rye's fine to move. Let's get on with it."

* * *

PRESENT

Zanrye could hear her. A woman. She needed his help. She was in pain.

The team was at his back. He looked around for her but only saw a figment, a ghost, a spirit? She was within the hole in the sky—trapped by what was greater than any nightmare. His arm tingled, from his hand up. But now was their time. The hollow, booming voice rang in his ears. "Kill the elf."

Zanrye opened his eyes, moaning. He was in a bed, warm. He sat up slowly, rising to see pelts and furs on the walls. Then the woman who dropped whatever she'd been holding. Her eyes looked at him big and fearful.

"I—I didn't know you were awake, I swear." She said to him, wringing her hands together.

"Why are you frightened? What happened?" He asked her, sitting up even more which caused her to back away a tad.

"That's wrong isn't it? I… I said the wrong thing." She babbled. Zanrye just looked at her, one eye narrowing in confusion. After a pause, the dropped down to the floor before him, continuing with, " I beg your forgiveness and your blessing." Zanrye was even more baffled. He stood slowly. She continued on, "they said you saved us. The breach stopped growing—just like the mark on your hand. It's…it's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

"Three days?" Zanrye asked, looking at his hand and pondering. "Then…the danger is over?"

"The breach is…it's still in the sky but that's what they say." The servant said almost apologetically. She stood now, backing away. "I'm certain lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened. She said at once."

"Where is she?" Zanrye went over to the open chest where he could see his chainmail.

"In the chantry with the Lord Chancellor." The girl replied. "At once…milord."

She left Zanrye to contemplate. He pulled on his armored breeches and tunic, thinking. They had faced a pride demon and survived. And the breach was still there but…it was no longer growing? What did that mean? He sighed, looking at his hand. It had given a rise but no longer pained him. It was now just…there….

He'd need to go see Cassandra to find out anything no doubt. He'd heard her mention something about Haven. So that was where they were. He needed answers. Why wasn't the breach gone? Why hadn't the mark worked like Solas has said it would? What was their plan now? Were any survivors found?

The walk to the chantry was excruciatingly embarrassing. A line has been formed on either side of the walkway and whispers met his ears with every step. He heard a few. He was being called the "Herald of Andraste." He was being called divine, holy. It was unsettling. He'd been out three days though, so he'd obviously missed when these titles were formed.

He heard the yelling outside the door from yards away and sighed before he willed himself to push the door open. Inside was a shem Zanrye had never seen before, the shem Cassandra, and the other hooded shem who'd been named "Leliana." They were bickering about him.

"Chain him! I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial" the man yelled upon his entering. Zanrye was too tired to move but felt his eyes narrow.

"Disregard that and leave us," Cassandra moved around the table, earning grumbles from the male shem. She reasoned, "The breach is stable but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

"I did everything I could to close the breach." Zanrye said hardly. "It almost killed me."

"Yet you live." The chancellor eyed him and Zanrye felt his disdain for the shem form then and there. "A convenient result insofar as you're concerned." Zanrye let out another sigh and let the three of them go on bickering, trying to get his mind together. The breach had been sealed, not closed. Other breaches were elsewhere he remembered Cassandra saying. And this chancellor bastard wanted him to be imprisoned still. He was jarred back into the conversation as he saw Cassandra and the chancellor's faces turn to him.

"The maker sent him to us in our darkest hour." She said. Zanrye paused for a long time, trying to consider what was being assumed here. And it was a lot.

"The breach is sealed." Zanrye said to them, exasperated. "What more do you want from me? What more do you think I could offer than that?"

"We must try again." Cassandra said simply. Somehow, Zanrye had a feeling she'd say that. He sighed and put a hand to his forehead as Leliana tried to explain things reasonably. Cassandra came back to the table with a heavy book which she dropped onto the table with a thud.

"You know what this is chancellor," She asked but didn't wait for an answer. "This is a writ from the divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the inquisition reborn. We will close the breach, we will find those responsible—with or without your approval."

There was a silence before the Chancellor left them. Zanrye turned back to the shems. He looked at each in turn as Leilana began weighing their prospects. But Cassandra interrupted.

"We must act." She looked at Zanrye. "With you at our side." Zanrye clenched his jaw but then balled his fist with the mark. Of course they did. There was no way anything would happen without him. His mark was the key. And the team—the new Inquisition, whatever that was, was integral to the end resolution—peace.

"I didn't expect this." He said finally, looking away. He was scared again. Scared like he always was. Scared of the voice he'd heard, of the pride demons, of the breach, and even of the shems that surrounded him, some—probably a lot—that wanted to kill him or blame him for what happened to their precious divine and broken sky and temple of sacred ashes. But he could not allow himself to not act—to become paralyzed. One thing was sure—the breach needed closing. And until it was closed, he was never going to be safe—because of this stupid mark. Whether the Creators put it on him, the shems prophet, or if it was just an act of random chaos, he had it. So it had to be him. And he had to get rid of the danger.

"Help us fix this…before it's too late," Cassandra said finally. Zanrye gave her a nod and then grasped her hand and shook it.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

Hand movements in the forest:

1\. Devil horns= shems (pinky and index up)

2\. Hand up as if ready to wave= in front

3\. Hand up with palm facing owner's face= behind

Elven stuff

vallaslin is the blood writing tattoos that elves get upon their adulthood ceremony

Sylaise is one of the Gods and the inspiration for one of the tattoos you can chose. I chose her modest style to fit in how the goddess relates to Zanrye (in this story, her following is about adaptability, working with what you have, etc)

Non-Inquisition Cast

Nishia—double dagger, best girl friend. Best, best.

Ponawen—bow, best guy friends

Lana—keeper's second

Kaynala—hunter


	2. Not A Herald For The Shems

HAVEN

The deliberations seemed just the beginning of many more to come. Zanrye was glad now that they were off to take action. They were headed to the Hinterlands to find Giselle—a voice against the condemnation of the chantry. And that was their link to gaining support and maybe even an army to bolster the Inquisition ranks.

Zanrye geared up, not as pleased as he could have been. He had not gotten the answers that he himself had been seeking. He feared the worst—that Lana and Ponawen were….

They hadn't been recovered from the temple of sacred ashes. But that didn't have to mean that they had perished and if they could just get word out to his clan, maybe they had returned. Maybe even a party of scouts could be sent out in case they were wandering off looking for refuge. He refused to believe they were dead—not Lana as powerful as she was and especially not Ponawen. He was strong and ingenuous and one of the most important people in Zanrye's life. He would not be discarded from thought as if he wasn't.

Zanrye stood outside of the small council chambers, waiting for Cassandra who was speaking with Leliana. He could have been in there but he was through with talking and with Leliana. The shem had refused him the scouts he was thinking of now, saying she could not expend the resources and that most were out other places. Zanrye was bitter to say the least. _I can be the center-stone to this whole operation but can't even get my first request_ , he thought, _fucking shems_.

"Herald Levellan." He heard beside him. It was the ambassador.

"Yes?" Zanrye answered, giving her the briefest of glances—not without appreciation. The ambassador was obviously attractive for a shem. As was the spymaster Leliana. None of the shems were unattractive in his party. Though none of them was attractive enough to escape the disgustingness of being shems.

"I have sent the raven to your clan's last known location." She said with an Antivan accent.

"Good." He said then added. "Thank you."

"I have also…reached out to my contacts in the villages and cities around the temple's site." She said to him. Zanrye frowned at her, attempting to comprehend. She continued, "If they receive refugees matching the descriptions you have given me, we will be notified immediately."

Zanrye felt his surprise show on his face.

"You—was that at any expenditure from the…inquisition?" He asked her.

"Well the Montilyet name does carry weight as well so I implored my siblings and cousins on our behalf, milord." She explained.

Zanrye couldn't believe what he was hearing but did sure enough. He felt a smile touch his face as disbelief left it. He tilted his head at her.

"Thank you, ambassador." He said to her, relief coming to him. "If you…if you receive any information at all…."

"You will be notified immediately and be the first to know." Josephine nodded to him. The door to the small council room opened and she stepped back from him but Zanrye kept his eyes on her. The act of kindness meant so much to him. The thought of seeing Ponawen again…alive and safe. He knew he should not get his hopes up and yet he did.

"Come. Let's set out." Cassandra said to him and Zanrye followed her. "Solas and Varric will meet up with us at the entrance. Horses are ready."

"After you, seeker." Zanrye said to her and they both continued forward. Zanrye looked over his right shoulder in time to see the ambassador's door close, her hand slipping away from the frame. He was almost angry again. What would he have to pay back for this? It would be worth it for him to see Ponawen again but still. He didn't like debt.

* * *

10 YEARS EARLIER

Ponawen wasn't always late. But when he was, he arrived at least a half hour after the agreed upon time. Zanrye knew this and so when an entire hour has passed since their meeting time rolled around, he began to worry a bit but not much. They were due to go out today. Swimming. But Ponawen was nowhere to be found. Zanrye headed back now, stopping by his family's trading post where his younger sister was. She was still a child but manned it when their father was away. She was 16, born five years after he was.

"Mima." He spoke to her. She was busying herself with the many oddities they kept at the trade post. She had darker skin than he, approaching her father's shade. Her hair was straight and shorter than her shoulders and she had bangs to crop her small eyes. The rest of her hair was braided into a crown.

"Rye." She said to him, smiling. "Did you even go to the lake?"

"Po didn't show up." He rolled his eyes. "Has he come by?"

"No. Only baba earlier—told me to tend to the shop. And Nishia. She came and bought some of the herbs." Mima grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. "You know which ones."

"I do. But that's her business, Mima." Zanrye reminded her. His sister shrugged.

"I know. But I'm just saying…."

"Are you going to visit the lake?" Zanrye asked her. "We'll be moving on soon."

"I don't like swimming." Mima made a face. "You know that Rye. Stop."

"Learn how to swim then." Zanrye laughed. "Then you'd actually like it."

"I don't need to swim." Mima replied. "I need to ride and run. Maybe you should improve that."

"Alright. I'm gone." Zanrye didn't engage the banter. "Are you coming home with baba?"

"No. I'll be back earlier. I'm going to hang out with Milan." Mima replied. Zanrye gave her a look and she sighed, "We're going on a hunt together."

"Romantic." Zanrye said sarcastically.

"It is." Mima shot back. "We're going to do it riding."

"Same horse then?" Zanrye asked. His voice was warning.

"It's none of your business." Mima turned away.

"Oh that's something that isn't?" Zanrye scoffed. "He knows who I am right?"

"Everyone does, Rye. That's why he's the first boyfriend I've had since Reg." Mima glared. "Leave them alone. You're like a ball and chain."

"Reg had it coming to him." Zanrye said, now smiling.

"You put him in a woodslab and set it on fire." Mima shot at him, now laughing herself.

"Like I said." Zanrye kept laughing.

"It was going more than a step too far." His sister shook her head. They made more talk for no more than five or so minutes when Zanrye spotted Nishia coming towards them. He gave her a fond smile.

"Nishia." He said. "Mima was just talking about you." But a smile did not reach Nishia's face. She came up to him with stoic, rigid eyes. She looked from Mima to Zanrye and then gripped his shoulder. He touched her hand. "What is it?"

"Zan…Mima…." She paused and then Zanrye felt dread begin to well within his stomach. She seemed to deliberate and then spoke. "It's Narvez."

"Baba?" Mima asked, her brow furrowing. Zanrye felt his neck prickle and his ear tips tingle. Nishia's voice was hollow and telling. A rush was simmering in his stomach.

"What happened?" He asked Nishia slowly but harshly.

"He's dying…." Nishia said softly but directly. "I came to find you."

Zanrye felt gravity shift and the rush became hotter. He swallowed nothing and inhaled deep, looking to the ground. Mima was struck dumb by this news and then found voice.

"No." She said, her voice wavering. She walked out of the arrangement she was in where their goods were held and magically guarded by keeper. She walked beside Zanrye and he saw her eyes were big, brown, and scared. "Nishia…"

"Ponawen's mother and other healers are with him." Nishia said lowly. "Ponawen said he was supposed to meet you at the lake so I went on that path first…."

"Go." Zanrye's voice was blunt. "Let's go back to the campsite."

Nishia nodded, saying nothing. She knew him, even better than Ponawen did. And she knew he needed to go. Zanrye walked fast and ahead, not able to digest what was happening. Mima kept stride with him and her arm continually brushed his as they sped back to the main campsite. He could nearly feel her despair, mounting as they got closer. He saw the guards and the soldiers but saw blood near their posts. And he distinctly remembered one as not being the guard that he saw earlier…and their posture….

A fear filled him and he kept his jaw clenched. He walked ahead so fast even Mima couldn't keep up. Camp was being packed up he saw. He saw the guard and looked in his eyes. He stopped before him and managed to choke out the question.

"Shem attack?"

The guard looked away and then nodded slowly. Mima gasped and he heard her pained noise and Zanrye pushed past them, running into the campsite. Blood was in his ears. He looked left and right for the face he knew he wouldn't see. Then he saw Ponawen's tent. He strode to it and was let past. He walked in and saw his friend there—29 years old with arms and hands covered in blood. He was shaking. He saw Zanrye and his brown eyes became almost panicked. He bit his lip and looked away. Zanrye walked past him and everyone else, coming upon the back.

Ponawen's mother knelt before the man. As did the keeper. But they were not working. They were praying.

Mima was crying. She flung herself forward, reaching for their father, held just out of reach by Ponawen's mother, whose bloody arms stained his sister's yellow tunic.

It was hard to breathe. And see. His jaw ached from biting on it too tight. Narvez, his father figure these years since he and his sister had lost their mother, the last parent they shared, lay there with chest gashed open, forehead nearly impaled, and a leg twisted and broken.

"Why would you bring them here Nishia!?" Keeper asked sternly. "Before it is dressed—"

"Zan should be able to see." Nishia said fiercely. "And Mima."

"Carnage? Gore?" Keeper shot back.

"What those shems did." Nishia replied. "It's better than not knowing…thinking maybe he could have been saved. And he would have seen anyway." Keeper did not reply and merely left the room. Zanrye saw Nishia give him a look and brush his eyes. The tears that were blurring his vision fell from it in response to her touch. He breathed to find mucus in his throat.

"Come help me." She said to him, leading him out but he pulled away.

"I need to be with my sister." He said to her simply, voice cracking painfully.

"She will come help me too." Nishia said. Zanrye nodded but the acation shifted his balance and he felt himself slumping too far to the right. He caught himself only to slump backward. When Nishia's hands supported him from behind to prevent falling, he broke. And he cried bitterly, sinking down beside the bed where his step-father lay. Mima reached out to him and he took her in his arms and they cried together. But it was more than sorrow in Zanrye's chest. There was fury. And hate. And fear.

* * *

HINTERLANDS

"That's enough, Varric." Cassandra said through gritted teeth. Varric would not let up, however.

"Seeker—think about it." Varric said. "The Herald made the right choice. We got an agent. One that could successfully talk one of the warring factions into taking…time off."

As Cassandra made a disgusted noise, Zanrye looked to Solas whose face was stoic and annoyed as ever. But it cleared slightly at Zanrye's chatter.

"I've seen a similar cave to that one." He informed Solas. "Not very much but enough."

"But no veilfire I take it?" Solas asked. Zanrye shook his head ruefully and Solas nodded as if in agreement. "How did you happen upon it?"

"Our clan was camped near it." Zanrye explained. "We were in the Anderfels. I believe we were in the region right above Orlais actually."

"So then not too far into the Grey Warden's domain." Solas surmised.

"I suppose not." Zanrye said. "Not that I'd like to be in that domain anyway. Warden or not, shems are shems and have to be tread carefully around."

"I wouldn't disagree but nor would I limit that reality to just…'humans.'" Solas replied, eyeing him. Zanrye almost rolled his eyes. Solas was a very grey thinker—which was not necessarily bad but it was very irritatingly mystical and averse to stark truths.

"Sure," Zanrye said back. "But it's like I've said before—hostility is to be expected from shems if you're an elf."

"Point taken. And I agree." Solas said. The knowing, more-informed-than-thou attitude usually lasted a mere few statements before Zanrye could gain leverage. But this was tiresome in itself. He knew Solas did not respect him or think him wise. He was smart and at times to absolute and reckless even but with good ideas. But in the end, Solas disagreed with Zanrye's methods and beliefs. He'd even attempted to condemn Zanrye off the bat for being Dalish. However, this was all coming from a man who considered spirits to be people so Zanrye was not very worried about approval from him. There just wasn't any other elves who weren't servants who would bow to him and scurry except for Solas. He missed his people….

Not that such sentimentality was on Solas's mind. He had made it clear he thought of himself as outside of such trivial considerations, something that made Zanrye dislike him more. He had his head in the Fade, Solas did. And his true people were there—spirits and those of the past. Second to that was probably apostates.

They headed out still, on their way to Redcliffe past the sounds of steel and turning pages as the mages and Templars continually duked it out with each other. Sooden had killed more shems than he ever thought he would on these plains and hills alone. They had literally carved their way to the castle which loomed above them finally. And before it was another Rift.

"Cassandra." Zanrye called to the woman who was instantly at his side. He pulled out his greatsword and came forward as the people near the front all cried to themselves. His hand surged, no longer painfully, but with a buzz as if already calling to the rift. He'd done this five times on these plains already.

He struck at the demons pouring out of the rift, cutting them down. A shade had already come down with three wraiths to boot. Xanrai felt the protective humming of Solas's shielding surround him and he went in with his sword swinging in a circle. He cut into the wraiths who seemed to only have one-track minds to shoot at him rather than save themselves. The shade was the bigger concern but Cassandra took it head on. Cassandra had impressed Zanrye on these plains. She was one of the best fighters and survivors he had ever worked with, or even seen. He didn't want to admit it but he didn't know if he could have made it this far without her.

The time came and he rose his hand up to the fade, feeling the humming become stronger—the light connecting with his palm and creating a wave of energy to pass between the two points. Zanrye saw the rift lose shape and form and soon close violently and completely, the connection broken soon after. The gates to the castle were opened uncertainly but he was welcomed in with wonder and awe. He'd saved them from barricading themselves for what must've seemed like it would be forever.

He spotted their target as soon as he entered the grounds. She lay beside a sick man and spoke to him. Zanrye approached her slowly. Varric and Solas hung back but Cassandra followed, giving him a respectful amount of space.

"…don't let them touch me Mother. Their magic…" the wounded soldier was pleading.

"Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade." Giselle chided him. He began to start to speak but she cut him off. Zanrye stepped forward.

"Mother Giselle." He said to her. She stood and walked to him, her eyes piercing and her face seemingly wise—or knowing.

"You must be the one they're calling Herald of Andraste." She spoke to him.

"Not through any choice of mine." Zanrye replied, to himself as well as her.

"We seldom have much to say in our fate, I'm sad to say." Giselle reasoned.

"But you agree with them." Zanrye said plainly. "Or you wouldn't be speaking to me."

"I do not presume to know the Maker's intentions for any of us." Giselle said. "But I did not ask you to come so that you could simply debate with me."

"Why am I here?" he asked her. She paused for a long moment, looking out over the war on the areas ahead before speaking.

"I know of the chantry's denouncement and those behind it. I will not lie to you: some of them are grandstanding. They hope to get their chances to become divine. Others are simply terrified. There were so many…good people…senselessly taken from us." Zanrye felt a pang. He thought of Ponawen again.

"What happened was horrible." He agreed. "For all of us."

"Fear makes us desperate." She replied. "But…hopefully not beyond reason. I suggest you go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

"That…won't just make things worse?" Zanrye asked skeptically.

"Could it be worse than it is?" Giselle asked.

"Probably, yes." Zanrye said firmly.

"Let me put it this way," the woman's tone changed and her eyes became solid and serious. "You needn't convince them all. You only need some of them to doubt. Their power is in their unified voice. Take that from them and you receive the time you need."

Zanrye mulled this over for a moment and then nodded his head slowly. They wanted chantry support—needed it to some degree. And they needed mages—or Templar as Cullen wanted—for this second attempt on the breach. And if doubt was all it took….

"It's good of you to do this, Mother." He said respectfully to her.

"Well…I don't know if you've been touched by fate or…sent to help us…but I hope." Giselle said to him. "Hope is what we need. The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no others. You must build the inquisition into a force that will deliver us…or destroy us." She left the statement there. Zanrye understood the severity. This matter was big—big enough to swallow the world. And unfortunately, the inquisition and he were at the center of it and the world's main defense.

* * *

Mother Giselle was sent back to Haven to make preparations for a meeting with the chantry. There was still more to do at the Hinterlands she had said and the ride was only a few days away. Zanrye thought it best to stay. Leaving his group at Redcliffe, he rode by himself back to their first campsite. He dismounted and went into his tent to lie down. He was mentally exhausted and did not wish to be bothered by Cassanra and Varric's stories, Solas's narration of the area, or Harding's forced conversation.

Yet a tap still came on the wooden poles holding up the tent and Zanrye turned over and called for them to enter. It was the requisition officer. He sighed as she handed him the letter taken from the leg of a raven of the inquisition. She left right after and Zanrye laid back down. He was reluctant to receive any more work but decided it was better to see any more leads. He opened the first seal to find that there were two scrolls. He read the first.

 _Herald Levellan,_

 _I have received word from your clan and have sent it out to you. I do not know its contents but wanted you to be the first to view it. I have not yet heard of anything about your friends but the search still continues and my allies remain watchful. I hope that you have found Mother Giselle. While you are at the Hinterlands, remember to contact the horse master so that we may construct our stables here at Haven. If you need anything more, just send word._

 _-Ambassador J. Montilyet_

The inquisition seal was stamped below the message. Zanrye reread the letter. She had done it. She'd gotten word. He felt himself smile. She'd come through. And here was the result. He opened the other letter which fell long almost to his knees from his chest. Different handwriting could be seen on different sections. The first was from keeper.

 _Dear Zanrye,_

 _We received word for your council that you are safe and well. We have heard tell of your Heraldry and condition. I understand you cannot come to see us now but we are thinking of you and Lana and Ponawen everyday. Do you know where they are? Are they with you? Your last letter did not say. If Lana is with you, tell her she may be able to gain more insight as to the mark upon your palm to help you even possibly remove it. Advise her not to touch it, however. We are unsure as to what kind of magic this is that we're dealing with. Please be safe and return when you can. I will send a messenger to check that this really is you and your location._

 _-Keeper Levellan_

Zanrye smiled as he read and his eyes stung. He looked down the parchment and saw that different people had written to him. Much was coded like the keeper's was but that was for the sake of protection. He saw in the middle writing from someone he longed to hear from.

 _Dear Zan,_

 _You really did have me worried. You had us all worried. Mima will write you her own letter probably but she was scared half to death when we heard the temple had exploded. Then rumors started flying about you working with an inquisition and we weren't sure what to believe. If that is you there, know that I'm so relieved to know that at least you're alive. I have my fears about the others since all that was mentioned was you. I want to see you. If you have any qualms or discrepencies, just let me know. I will kill every shem in the area if you're being held against your will there. Write back to me. I'll keep writing threats to this address until you reply and tell me it's you. I need to know that it's you. I think so but I have to be sure. I'm dying over here not knowing, Zan. I love you. Come home if you can or I'll try to come to you maybe._

 _Write me back,_

 _Nishia_

Zanrye sat with his knuckles buried in his closed jaw. He exhaled deeply as he read, sadness filling him. Nishia, keeper, Mima…. He missed them more than he even thought so. And Ponawen and Lana…if they mentioned them, then he knew they hadn't made it home. Creators, were they…were they…?

Zanrye rolled onto his side. Hopefully not. They weren't. No. They were survivors. They'd make it. He was sure of it. They just had to find them is all. They just had to make sure that they remained alive. And he wouldn't rest until he'd found them or creators forbid their corpses. He read more of the letter and peeked at Lady Montilyet's again. She was helping him in this. She would continue to help him in this. And with her help and his own services, they'd find them. He knew they would. He still didn't know what this would cost him that was best to be thought of later. If this cost him anything, it would probably be something he'd do anyway as the new Herald. He was doing a lot he didn't want to these days. He supposed Montilyet could almost seemingly be "one of the good ones" as far as shems went. Her and Cassandra.

He reached to his pack and pulled out parchment of his own, taking out a pen. He'd write back to her and tell her he'd received her letters and to continue the search, that his people hadn't made it home. He was hesitant but if Montilyet didn't know then he couldn't work with her to find them best. Secrecy was not an option. He pondered where to begin, thinking about her: poised, prim. Friendly. Useful. Modest in her decoration but striking all the same. The modesty sort of added to her allure if anything. Most elven female modesty had that allure—at least for him. An aura that was too superior to be unrefined or very showy but with the steadiness and humility. And the accent was nice enough.

Not to say that that meant anything in the long run. Working together was different from liking. Though she had made herself likeable, she made gains from being like so. She was ambassador and to play nice with him would probably increase his efficiency in the inquisition. Psychology. And she was still a shem at the end of the day. He trusted her as much as he trusted a wild animal in the forest. Just enough. There was a reason for that.

He finished his letter and then laid down to finish the one from his clan, reading it until he drifted off to bed.

* * *

10 YEARS EARLIER

Nishia sat beside Zanrye on the edge of the lake. Mima's face was in his lap, her eyes closed as she dreamed. The day had been long and the ceremony was to happen tonight. They were going to bury their father tonight with the rest. Then they were back on the road and away from these forests. Nishia looked at him after a time.

"About an hour." She reminded him of the time. Zanrye said nothing. He just kept gazing at the forest. The life. The colors were again meshing into each other. Zanrye's face hurt from dried tears. He stroked his sister's hair. After minutes ticked by, he spoke. He had said this before.

"They take everything." He said.

"I know." Nishia said quietly.

"Why do they think they can just take everything?" Zanrye said in a bewildered tone.

"Because shems rule the world." Nishia said sadly.

"They took my father…and then my mother…" Zanrye touched his sister's cheek. "And now they've taken my sister's father…the last parent my sister and I had."

"They will all get what's coming to them Rye. You know that." Nishia said.

"I know." Zanrye said, his face blank. "I'll give them what's coming to them."

"But it isn't your fault." She said sternly. Zanrye nodded but she grabbed his arm. "It isn't your fault. There was nothing anyone could have done. Your parents…your step father…this is the shems' fault. They caused all of this. If you were here, you couldn't necessarily save them."

"If we just killed all the shems, the threat would be gone and I wouldn't have to worry about it." Zanrye said bitterly. He knew he was being irrational and illogical but that's how he felt. He had a panicked need—destroy the problem to protect those he loved. He looked down at Mima and said, "What about her? What if the next time they get her Nishia?"

"You won't let that happen." Nishia said firmly. "And neither will she."

"That's what we both said about Narvez." Zanrye said hollowly. "After we lost our mom… and Narvez took me as a son…we promised that he wouldn't end up like mom…and look what happened there?"

"Those were child promises that you know you couldn't keep." Nishia said sternly. "This is something different. You can protect yourself and her. You guys can protect each other."

"I don't want anyone else I love to die Nishia." Zanrye said, his voice breaking. No tears came but he hurt, the feeling in his neck and trailing all the way to his gut. He felt weak. He felt defenseless. And afraid. And he hated shems for making him feel this way.

"We won't." Nishia said, wrapping their arms together. "Me…Mima…Ponawen…and everyone else. We won't let each other die without a fight. You know this. Your parents…they were completely out of your control. They went off, they were out of sight, they thought they could take care of themselves alone. We all know better. And we will not go down, Zan. I promise."

"You can promise for everyone?" Zanrye said, a biting tone coming out.

"I can promise to do my part." She responded reasonably. Zanrye said nothing but then sighed and nodded, knowing that was all they could do. But maybe that was all it took.

"I love you Zan." She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Zanrye leaned into her, cradling his sister still.

"I love you too." He said. "Thank you."

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

Time:

-The breach has been sealed. The companions are introduced. They have head to the hitnerlands and have found mother Giselle so they can talk to the chantry about supporting them so they can do this last grand stand

Relations and Family:

-Zanrye's mother and father had him. His father died a few years after he was born and his mother went with another man—his sister's father Narvez, who adopted him after their shared mother was also killed.

Non-Inquisition Cast:

Nishia—double dagger, best girl friend. Best, best.

Ponawen—bow, best guy friends

Lana—keeper's second

Kaynala—hunter

Mima—sister, hunter bow and arrow

Milan-sister's boyfriend


	3. I'd Miss You More

HAVEN

He couldn't escape the Hinterlands. After already two weeks in this Maker-forsaken place, Zanrye found his services requested over and over whilst he was carrying out requests from some other person. It was beyond tedious. These shems and elves alike, clamoring for his help or his blessing. Some things were small, like carrying a potion or a ring from one party to another. Others were more than dangerous, like the rift-worshiping crazies and clearing out all those bandits that had been wreaking havoc on top of the never ending conflict between the mages and the Templars, encounters that left the ground scorched and the innocents running for their lives.

Throughout that time, Varric and Cassandra had given him several migraines, Solas had bitten his head off time and again, and he'd had to use Cassandra as a scribe to remember the destinations and people for whom they were performing tasks. He now kept a journal, kept safe by Cassandra.

She was the only thing keeping him sane out here, to be honest. She had backbone and will and a strong mind for the big picture while not forgetting the smaller, even pettier trifles. He liked that, he knew. And just as with now, she was the only person who realized he was weary and suggested they head to one of their camps to rest. And so they did and Zanrye climbed up the nearby ridge to look out at the darkening sky. He took in the scenery, at once nice and green and reminding him at home but now only serving as a symbol of work. And people looking for a hero as well as handouts.

"It's exhausting." He heard Cassandra's voice behind him. He didn't turn around. She knew where to find him because she knew he was troubled. Despite how rocky their first encounters had been, Zanrye found that he liked her the most out of his traveling party.

"More than." Zanrye corrected her and then gestured beside him. She was already taking a seat. She inhaled deep and looked out with him.

"We will be able to leave soon." She informed him. "Mother Giselle has begun her work in Haven for us. We have nearly fulfilled the assignments from Corporal Vale. Just the hunting left so that the people may eat another month. And then we can finish at the farm for Denet and be heading back."

"Is that all?" Zanrye asked mockingly, earning a chuckle from Cassandra and letting his own enter the noisy night alongside hers.

"It is nothing compared to work we have ahead of us." She reminded him.

"I know." Zanrye's tone darkened and he heaved a sigh. "I just…I sometimes wonder what it all really means."

"What do you mean by that?"

"This. The inquisition and my being the Herald and…the fighting…the war…." Zanrye pinched his lips together and then released them and looked at Cassandra. "I didn't want this—to be marked. You know that. But I was and now it's up to me to save the world from these rifts and to try to seal the real rift?" He looked away again. "I'm not unhappy to do it anymore. I understand someone has to and I'll try to…for my family…and the world… but I just wonder why things turned out this way. All of it."

"That is a question I often ask myself." Cassandra said. "Why would the Maker let this befall us?" She looked squarely at Xanrai. "I still firmly believe that you were sent to us to save us by the Maker—by Andraste—but I cannot help but wonder why these things take place—the war between the mages and Templars or the hole opening in the sky. They say the Maker is gone and that is why…but if tales hold true, the Maker was still around before the Blight and even then wars were fought and innocents died." She looked toward the ground.

"And now," Zanrye continued after her. "With the Inquisition." He thinks. "I don't know what you all want from me exactly. But I can only do so much. And when we're able to close the rift then what? Will I be Andraste's Herald still? Can I go to my family? Could I act like nothing happened? Is that how it'll be?"

"No one would bar you from the ones you love." Cassandra said simply. "The only question is: when can you return. And the Inquisition may be used to do many things after the rift is closed. That is our biggest but not sole threat. The world is in disarray because of the war and with the Divine dead…we need to rebuild."

"And what'll be my place if not the Herald?" Zanrye asked simply. "In a world full of sh-humans and dwarves and servant elves—all that I just saved—where will I be then? Where will the Dalish be? My people? Where will our Gods be?"

"Anywhere you wish for them to be." Cassandra said. "I know it must sound simple but the inner workings won't be, of course. But the state of the world will be changed by what's happening.  
And with you as the Herald, the relations between humans and elves can't remain as they are. Not by the Chantry's standards or the Inquisition's." Zanrye didn't answer but was not angry at her. He didn't know what to say or believe. He was tired of running around and doing errands and helping these people and for what in return? Nothing so far. Except the world would not collapse and his clan would not be swallowed up by the rift. But that did not require helping each and every shem that needed assistance. So why help them all?

"I understand you have been through much in the last few weeks and probably more throughout your life." Cassandra said. "We all have pasts and opinions. But I can only say to you that this is your moment to help change the future and create the conditions for the things you want to come to pass." They sat for a minute or two before she stood, clasping his shoulder. "I will await you at camp. I won't be able to sleep. More letters for you by the way." She was walking down the ridge when she turned back to him, "And even if you do not wish to live as Andraste's Herald, we in the Inquisition and most of all of Thedas will know you as such. You cannot stop being what you are. And what you are can create any future you please."

She left him on that note. He knew what she was saying but Zanrye was not more at peace from the thoughts. He still didn't know what future he wanted. He only knew the present and the future he had once envisioned in his clan life. There was so much on him to do and so many changes happening all around him.

He didn't want to change.

But he also knew he didn't want things to stay the same.

* * *

17 YEARS EARLIER

His mother and father had returned home to find Zan at the hearth. He was organizing herbs. Today was the day they honored Zan's true father and he was collecting royal elfroot, the herb he remembered his father loving the smell of. They would gather various mementos from each family member and then eat in his name before praying to his God and then each of their Gods of choice before burning these things. It was a ritual.

"Rye." His mother, Rista, greeted him and smiled. Her short honey blonde hair was wet from the mist outside. Her eyes matched Zanrye's.

"Mother." He said to her, smiling. He was a young boy but getting taller each year steadily gaining acclaim with his friends and elders around the campsite.

"Where is Mima?" She asked him.

"She's out with Po still," Zanrye said with a shrug.

"She should be here. It's nearly time for dinner." His mother frowned and shook her head at her 9 year old's lack of obedience.

"She will be." Narvez smoothed his wife's shoulders, his brown beard moderately full and moved when he spoke. His eyes and skin were very dark, like stone used to decorate chests.

"Ponawen will have her back." Zanrye agreed. "He's prone to being late though."

"Something you know I don't like." His mother smirked at him and Zanrye gave a rye grin. "Are you nearly done with your offering?"

"About." Zanrye nodded.

"Always at the hearth, this one." Narvez came to Zanrye and smoothed his hair back—his warm hands brushing the tip of Zanrye's forehead and trailing over the scalp all the way to the nape of the neck. He did it to Mima as well and both children agreed it felt comforting. His hands were big and callous but were soft in the tender touch.

"Leave him be, Narvez." Rista said softly, walking over to the kitchen area to continue cooking and grab plates.

"I am not mocking him for it," His stepfather said, sitting beside him and helping him tie some of his herbs. "Rye, you are very good at the larger of swords. We have all seen you. And your sense for the hunt is not bad at all. But I can see your dedication to the hearth."

"I am dedicated to it," Zanrye smiled, his hands still working out the plants. "Just as dedicated as to the sword. But I like the different ways to light fires and know herbs and whatnot…."

"True. And yet your skills are strong with the hunters—you've expressed interest in becoming one. Talents like that do not necessarily belong beneath the hearth, sorting plants son." Narvez pouted, eyeing his boy.

"He has a knack for those things that are taught at the hearth as well." Rista said haughtily, smiling at her son. "Things that are of great importance that many hunters overlook."

"No one denies the importance." Narvez said kindly. "But for his occupation within the clan, I think he should get out from beneath it more often. Express that which Mythal bestowed. Or Andruil. He has just as great a knack for that which falls within their areas of blessing."

"His stronger skills fall outside of Sylaise you think?" Rista asked. She looked to Zanrye with a smile before continuing. "Sylaise is the goddess of the hearth. She gives us fire, traps, crafts, herbs, and childbirth. But most of all, the ability to create and adapt."

"She taught elves to survive." Zanrye halfway recited knowledge that was known to him about h

his mother—and his—most revered Creator. "To improvise. To be crafty and skillful."

"As Juno taught the bow, Sylaise taught the posture when holding the bow and how to attack from safety." Rista said conclusively. "He gave the clothing. Sylaise gave the needle and thread. And Rye can wield his sword with resourcefulness as well as power." She gave her son an encouraging nod.

"And then decorate it with flowers." Narvez said, continuing to say, "ones with just enough poison to paralyze his attackers." Zanrye smiled at him. There was noise outside. "Mima."

"You had better warn Ponawen that I'm not kidding about her being home on time." Rista said to Zanrye as she went to the door to welcome them.

"I understand." Zanrye said with a smirk. In walked the recently adult elf, Ponawen. 22 years had him with long hair on the sides of his face. It didn't suit him but made him look older.

"Here she is safe and sound, ma." He said to Zanrye's mother who pursed her lips and invited him inside as well. She had set a place for him at their table. Ponawen grinned at Zanrye.

"Back with your flowers hm?" He asked Zanrye who made a face. He sat next to him and continued, "Mima's getting too fast. She doesn't want to stop playing in the woods and I have to chase her and it's getting harder each year."

"She's only nine." Zanrye said to him, scoffing.

"Nine on wheels." Ponawen said defensively. The young Mima, missing a few teeth, shot a smile at the boys before hopping into her seat, a new shirt on but her pants still filthy. Ponawen play-scowled at her. "Demon," he labeled her.

"Goat." She shot back—referring to the slow animal-for-slaughter.

"Enough of that." Narvez scolded her halfheartedly and then looked to Ponawen. "You'll stay with the hunters then Ponawen?"

"I think so." Ponawen answered him. "Either that or scouts—or spy. And being stealthy never was my strong suit. And scouts have to travel too far and watch borders."

"You'd be bored?" Narvez laughed.

"Well yeah!" Ponawen answered. He looked at Zanrye. "You'd love to be a scout no doubt."

"Rye still has time to decide." Rista said, bringing food to the table before them. Narvez stood to help her get the rest and drinks.

"I want to be a hunter." Zanrye said simply. "But if not, no I wouldn't mind being a scout. I'd get to explore and keep watch over the clan just like a hunter."

"But with more travel and less chance at any action," Ponawen said.

"Less chance of killing," Zanrye corrected. "our herbs for keeper and the healers are found by the scouts."

"But you can choose whichever you feel up to—when the time comes to." Rista said as she and Narvez took their seats. That was her concluding the conversation. "Narvez—please say the prayer for the meal."

* * *

PRESENT

HAVEN

Zanrye was finally back to regroup after being in the Hinterlands for weeks. He'd left Cassandra and Solas there with Harding to keep them updated and make sure all camps were secured and that Corporal Vale was satisfied. The two would follow him and Varric when that was taken care of. Though their relationship was still volatile, Zanrye was at least sure that he could depend on Solas—and with Cassandra watching over the affairs, everything would be kept under control. Besides, the sky had opened up, the Templars were behaving crazily, and Solas—though judgmental and dangerously sympathetic towards demonic forces—was one of the few people that Zan was sure cared about what was happening in the way that it should be cared about.

Zanrye walked straight to the chantry, first stopping by Montilyet's office to turn in research. He caught Josephine, scribbling away as usual, in the corner of his eye as he did so. She wore her usual orderly, yet somewhat fancy attire. He'd grown accustomed to it, as he had with everyone's, but he was well aware he favored the way she dressed. When he'd explained his findings and the locations where he'd gotten all of the materials, Zanrye finally turned and walked close to Josephine's desk. She looked up immediately.

"Yes?" She asked. "I received your letter. When the list of names gest back from Mother Giselle, we should be ready to approach the chantry."

"Good." Zanrye said to her. He paused, not being able to stifle the rising discomfort in him preceding his next words. "And, um, I appreciate it Ambassador. Your getting ahold of my clan and…your efforts for my team." Josephine's face adopted a look of understanding.

"If it can be done, it should be done." She said to him. "This undertaking is important enough to the Inquisition to be acted upon."

"I don't see how." Zanrye said flatly, knowing she was lying. "But it is important to me."

"And that is reason enough." Josephine said smoothly. "You are integral to the Inquisition and would work better and rest easier if their conditions were known." Zanrye had suspected such a motivation but somehow felt this was just more doublespeak. He gave a slight nod, looking down at her desk when she continued. He looked up at her to see her giving him a small smile. "I know how important family duty is. You needn't explain your urgency."

There was a new development than he'd thought but one that felt more genuine.

"You aren't from here, right? How did you came to work for the Inquisition again?"

"I'd been considering leaving my post in antiva for a new challenge when Leliana recruited me." Josephine said. "There's such unrest in Thedas…. And the Inquisition seems a promising method to stop it. It's to everyone's benefit if we prevent the mage and Templar conflict from spreading further."

"It can probably only become worse." Zanrye agreed.

"The full impact of the mage rebellion is yet to be felt. And that was before the divine was killed." Josephine stressed. "The violence must be curbed before it turns to full scale war."

"And…how did you meet Leliana?" Zanrye inquired.

"We moved through similar circles in Orlais." Josephine said. "I believe we actually met in Val Royeaux. Leliana was a quite accomplished player of the game by then."

"What is the game?" Zanrye asked.

"Forgive me." she said. "The game refers to the slow duels of influence among the noble and powerful of Orlais. It's a…lighthearted name for the matter but Orlesians are…playful touches."

Zan noted her change in pitch. He wasn't sure why he had noted it but the fact that he did compelled him to speak more.

"And your family then? What business did the Montilyet's do?"

"We began as merchants. My ancestors founded the first trade routes to Rivain. We once sent entire fleets across the waking sea." But…no more." She didn't want to continue Zanrye saw. But he wanted to ask more. But before he could, she continued—her somber tone remaining. "There was actually…something I wanted to ask you, Lavellan."

"Did you…need something from me?" He asked. He almost braced. What price did she want for the favors she was performing?

"Yes. Well, not precisely but…" Josephine started. She seemed reluctant to speak for a moment, getting that worried look upon her face. "I should like to know if anyone has treated you unkindly Herald. For being an elf." The question was unexpected. Zanrye considered her for a moment before he straightened.

"Well, I can deal with a few whispers and sideways looks." Zanrye assured her but Josephine's face became clouded with disappointment and sympathy.

"I will speak with the staff regarding such conduct," She tsked. "If we're to convince the world that Andraste's herald is an elf, the Inquisition must give you its utmost support."

Zanrye eyed her. What she said was true. And so was her concern. Did she view them truly as a team? Did she genuinely care about how he was being dealt with, apart from all the political intricacies? He didn't realize he was halfway staring and almost didn't hear her speak of stories.

"Wait-how have the rumors gotten worse?" He asked her. She frowned.

"I would prefer not to repeat them." She said.

"Give me something." Zanrye urged her, putting a hand on her desk. She began to rattle a few and Zanrye felt a smile creeping onto his face. "using babies for blood magic? Burning villages?" It was a grimace more than a smile. He was disgusted—and that small part of him was getting angry. _Fucking shems_.

"Why not claim the Dalish can steal your breath—or turn into dragons while they're at it?" he asked, his laugh more of a scoff as his temper rose. His voice had been thin. Josephine obviously sensed his anger.

"Those are the stories about your fellow Dalish. I won't repeat what they've said about you." Josephine said lowly and firmly.

"Well it's the humans telling those tales who are the first to take a knife to someone with pointed ears!" Zanrye nearly spit at her. "My clan's defended ourselves against them more times than I can count." There was a brief pause and Zanrye felt his face heat at her expression.

"Really?" Josephine asked, her eyes wide. Her face showed her horror. "I…" her voice cracked. "…had no idea. I will do what I can to end the slander herald. "It…may help if I know more about you and your clan specifically—how you lived."

"I've already told you all how we lived." Zanrye looked at her quizzically.

"Some. Very little." Josephine countered. "I'm thinking more highlights rather than traditions." Zanrye eyed her and she said, "If you want to of course."

Zanrye felt calmer then. He let his anger subside. She wasn't the one to be mad at. She was a shem that at least needed and somewhat respected him.

"Hm…" Zanrye thought. "I'd have to say…the best parts were when your ara—uh, wagons—pulled into the woods finally." A tone of reminiscence and melancholy came to him. "I used to spend days—no weeks—exploring the woods. Even ones we'd passed briefly before. To get lost in them but make a way out…seeking our wagon and campsite like a beacon…."

Josephine smiled at him, giving a small laugh.

"You make it sound idyllic." She said, fondness touching her brown eyes. They were calculating and approving as they swept over him. Then sadness came to them. "Haven is so far away from home. You must miss the people of your clan."

Zanrye thought for a moment, realizing just how long he had been away now. Remembering Ponawen and Nishia, Kaynala and Mima and so many others—even Milan. Those living. He looked to Josephine's face. And he knew it bordered on a stare again. He felt somewhat vulnerable under the stare she returned. She had helped him and had always been pleasant. More than pleasant. He liked that, appreciated it. That felt odd to him. Because he knew he genuinely found this shem attractive—in her person and looks.

 _This "woman_ ," Zanrye forced himself to think. Because she was as much that as she was shem.

"I do wish I could see my sister especially." Zanrye admitted. "And Nishia." He looked directly at her now, hazel eyes bright and mirroring the edge in his voice. "But if I'd never left home Josephine…I never would have met you. That would also be a tragedy."

And it would be, in more ways than the way he was implying. He knew what he felt for her and for the other shems on his team—how relaxed he realized he'd become with them. He trusted them—Cassandra and Josephine most of all. Hell, out of them all, he trusted Solas (the only elf) the least. And even being able to sit, fight, and eat beside them was foreign and idiotic to him. Yet he did so with ease.

"Really, there is more to this Master Lavellan." Josephine shook her head. "Whatever comes, your role as Andraste's Herald will mark your clan in history."

"They won't want me as a Herald of Andraste, I can assure you." Zanrye countered.

"They have to see the importance of what you are doing," Josephine assured him. Zanrye shrugged and saw her frown.

"Eventually maybe." He said. That seemed to settle in better and she nodded. She began looking at her papers now and Zanrye knew the moment had passed. He turned away from her desk when he heard her call his name. He turned back.

"They will see." She said. "What you…what we all will accomplish here will mean the world to everyone quite literally. You will be a hero." She smiled. "You are a hero."

* * *

11 YEARS EARLIER

"You're a hero." Ponawen clapped Zanrye's back as the two sat with Nishia and Kaynala before the big group before them. There was a feast being had in the village. He ate of the ram and partook in the wine offered him. His clan was especially big on dancing. Dancers came to the center area or people danced individually off to the side. Men and women of the village were performing routines that were in part taken from the eldest of dances—reaching far back into the past, before the shems had conquered them all. These were the dances of salvation and victory. Other dancers simply let the rhythm take them, and the feelings.

Zanrye looked into the sky, filled with stars. His face was flushed with heat and the night was just cool enough to offset the bodies.

"They'll be talking about us for days—months!" Kaynala said to him, pushing his shoulder. She was fair and had brown hair. She was a bit older than Nishia at 24.

"More than that! Keeper honored you both." Ponawen smiled genuinely—the smile seeming to have been on his face since the night began when Zanrye and Kaynala had stumbled back into camp with the youth, the artifact, and shem blood that didn't cause them to have to move camp. Ponawen continued, "none of us will forget this."

"Tell your kids about us Ponawen?" Kaynala shot at the man, her eyes dancing along with the flames in front of them.

"Everyone one. My bastards included." Ponawen raised his cup.

"Oh right!" Zanrye scoffed at him. "We all know you're sterile, Po."

"Wouldn't want him any other way." Nishia said quietly, smirking.

"Oh and your little liquid's better eh?" Ponawen shot back, yet good-natured. "You think anyone wants another bloodthirsty, broody bitch?"

"Bloodthirsty, broody, and beautiful-yes." Nishia said, her smirk widening into a smile.

"Beauty's for the birds!" Ponawen waved his hand. "Everyone likes em a little…ugly." His tone was suggestive. They all got it. Kaynala laughed outright.

"Well they'd have to since you still get any attention." Zanrye joined in with a jab, causing yet more laughter and Po rolled his eyes at them but laughed as well. Lutes played around them and hollow, narrow drums were beat. The sounds of crowd mirth made Zanrye feel blissful. Times like this were when he cherished his clan most of all—his clan above other Dalish clans, the dwarves and their treasure, and the shems with their mighty kingdoms. He felt the air rush past him as a gust came upon the camp. It refreshed the area. It cleared his vision. He took another sip of his own ale, still seeing the fuzziness at the very edges of his eyes but not letting it obstruct his vision—this vision of perfection.

"Dance with me." Kaynala said to him suddenly. "Before it ends. They're starting to put away children." She looked to Nishia and Ponawen. "You coming?"

"I…don't think I should get up." Ponawen said, though he tried and wobbled back down onto his butt. Nishai just cocked a brow and rolled her eyes. She wasn't into dancing.

"You two go on ahead." She said and leaned forward at the table. She even looked tired herself.

Zanrye followed Kaynala to the center a bit and they quickly joined hands and their stomp began. Attempting to go in tandem, Zanrye and Kaynala clumsily stomps with one of their hands intertwined. They moved left and right, their steps full of pep and vigor. Zanrye twirled as Kaynala did and the two jumped back and forth. They were a flurry. They constantly traded hands depending on how they moved. At the rising interlude, Zanrye's arms wrapped around her and they swung together, her holding on tight as she lifted her off the ground and flung her bottom half on both sides of himself and in between his legs, before letting her feet once again impact the ground.

Zanrye barely heard Mima as he let the music fill him and Kaynala's hands keep him on the field. But he heard her after a time and stopped the two of them to see what his 15 year old sister needed of him.

"What?" He asked her to repeat herself.

"I'm going home now. With Milan. I don't need you to walk me." She said.

"What? With Milan? No." Zanrye gave her a stern look offset by his slight loss of footing after the dancing. "I'm coming right now."

"No, Rye, I want Milan to walk me home okay?" She crossed her arms. "I just didn't want you to come looking for me before you left."

"Mima…I'm not just gonna let this guy you don't know—"

"Okay, there he is. Bye Rye." Mima said, beginning to walk away.

"Mima!" Zanrye called after her, frowning. She did not respond. Just kept on. Zanrye shook his head and considered but then felt Kaynala nudge him.

"Let her go." She urged. "And she said Milan. You've known him for at least three years."

"She knows what I mean." Zanrye said, not letting the conceding tone be masked.

"Hey, walk Ponawen home." Kaynala said. "He looks bad."

His friend was indeed very drunk and was nearly asleep at their table. He seemed to have vomited into his cup before pushing it aside. Nishia was nowhere to be found but such was her way. He would probably see her tomorrow earlier than he'd like to be up after a night like this.

"Come on." He slapped Ponawen's arm and the man groaned and lifted his head. Zanrye wasted no time in helping the stocky man to his feet and then supporting him on the way to Ponawen's house. The small square building was made of thin wood and leather—as with all homes, so that they could be taken down, saved, and reassembled at the next campsite. Zanrye dropped off the man inside his bachelor's den and then left, closing the entrance behind him. He exhaled as he did and barely noticed the woman clearing her throat beside him. He recognized her—a fair skinned brunette with big, dark eyes. She was one of the scouts. Lilazi.

"Hey Zanrye." She said to him.

"Lilazi." He greeted her in return. "You left the party too?"

"Many are leaving it." She responded. "Have left it earlier. It's really late actually."

She had on a short dress tonight for the feast with bold but pale orange tights. Her dress was an off red color. Her hair was not in its usual bun but fell around her shoulders. She had one hand on her hip and the other hanging.

"Did you want me to walk you to your house?" Zanrye offered his services, though a wave of tired had hit him and she was in no danger as a scout herself.

"Mine?" She asked. Her tone was clear and her dark eyes were on his grey ones. He blinked once as he considered. The tired ebbed away as he continued to look at her and his passions rose further south.

"Yeah." He said, walking over to stand directly before her. He looked down at her and she up at him for a moment before he explained, "Parents."

"I understand." She nodded, not moving away. "I have my own." She didn't wait for him to reply, just turned toward the paths and took a small step. Zanrye came beside her and they walked back to her house—small like Ponawen's. Almost the same but with a different shade of leather, a lighter one. And it smelled like flowers upon their entering.

As soon as they did, Lilazi locked the door and leaned on it, gazing at him demurely. Bold in asking with docile passion. Zanrye liked it. He turned back toward her and, with a small suggestive smile, walked to her and took her by the hips. She stared up at him through her lashes and traced a finger on his shirt. He caught it and placed it in his mouth, earning a sharp intake of breath from Lilazi and causing her to close her eyes. He felt her ass and pulled her body in close to his so that they were touching, pulling her finger slowly from between his lips.

"Tonight?" He asked her, verifying their romantic status. She opened her eyes partially and placed a soft hand behind his head, feeling his wavy hair.

"Only." She agreed. She took her other arm and wrapped both arms around his neck. Her voice was small but blunt. "I want to fuck a hero…tomorrow, you'll be just Zanrye again." Zanrye had to grin at that. They had not been friends before and only seen each other sometimes, no inclination towards each other, but tonight was different indeed.

Zanrye picked the woman up in his arms—she wrapping her legs around his waist and led her (by her direction) to her bed. He littered her body with kisses only—not the mouth. He started over the dress before her dress and tights came off, leaving only her smallclothes that he took off more slowly. He wanted to relish the moment. Not necessarily because of the woman or the need but because of today. As soon as she was in smallclothes, she had the same idea. As Zanrye took off his own clothes, her voice came out in a whisper.

"How did you do it?" She asked in a breathy whisper. Zanrye pulled his tunic over his head and leaned down over her.

"I saw the shems there…surrounding this building." He said, pausing to suck on her neck. "Five. And all armored strange. They weren't your typical town shems. Probably from out at sea." He pulled her legs up to be around his waist. "We waited a while to see what they were up to. We were patient…" he undoes her top half. "And then we found out—pirates, stealing artifacts."

He paused to take her breast in his mouth now and felt Lilazi's legs tighten around him slightly and felt her fingers run through his hair. He did the same to the other and heard her voice again.

"You brought back kids…." She continued, her tone dreamy.

"From their ship—with all the other riches they stole." Zanrye replied. "Slaves—city elves. Helping them excavate. When we took them on, we didn't hurt the elves. Some even helped us." He moved his hand in between her legs and his mouth back to her breasts for a time, the woman beginning to squirm beneath him in seconds. He was still outside but—with the same hand— reached around to her ass to begin to pull off the rest. Sensing, she removed her hand from his head and lifted her legs, letting her bottom piece slide off and into his hands, and soon onto the floor. Zanrye removed his own and readied himself with a wrap right after, still looking her in her eyes.

"You killed them…." She said, partially asked, her breathing deep and disjointed. Zanrye leaned back in between her legs before speaking again.

"All of them." He said, his own voice mottled by deeper breaths. "I cut down the first unsuspecting—fell to his knees." As he spoke, he drew their bodies together. "Came up to the second…plunged my sword straight through him. Pulled out…only to plunge it into the next beside him." He felt them connect and pushed forward, Lilazi's hands coming to his shoulder blades and tightening around them. He put his forehead against hers and repeated his motions, slowly but building up into a much quicker rhythm soon.

"None a match for you…" Lilazi moaned.

"None." Zanrye agreed, grabbing her arms now and crossing them over each other above her head. He held her there with one hand, his other cradling her ass as he and bent the rest of them to accommodate, eliciting a loud cry of yearning and approval from her—the first of many that night. Her cries came faster each time and increasingly more shrill until the time when she had no more cries to give.

* * *

 **Helpful Information**

\- Time

The breach is sealed. The Hinterlands are nearly completed-that treacherous area. Enough influence is gotten but still we are here (IT'S A TRAP) and then he finally returns. We end on the need to finally go to Val Royeaux.

\- Relations and Family

Zanrye's mother and father had him. His father died a few years after he was born and his mother went with another man-his sister's father Narvez who adopted him after their shared mother was also killed. (most of when Zanrye refers to his dad or father [unless otherwise indicated], he is speaking of Narvez)

-Non-Inquisition Cast:

Nishia- (girl) best, best friend. Hunter-double daggar

Ponawen- (boy) best friend Hunter-bow

Lana- (girl) keeper's second

Kaynala- (girl) hunter

Mima- (girl) younger sister by five years

Milan- (boy) Mima's boyfriend

Lilazi- (girl) scout


	4. Power or Protection (Mages of Redcliffe)

VAL ROYEAUX

"There are Templars here?" Cassandra's voice held thick surprise. Zanrye felt his skin crawl. Templars…. Here. Already. Zanrye didn't know if he felt good they'd be showing their hand or not. Regardless, he was scared. Never knew what to expect from them.

"People seem to think the Templars will protect them from the inquisition," The scout said apologetically. "They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you."

"There's only one thing to do." Cassandra looked at Zanrye who nodded back at her. She was a Seeker after all. Seekers could "lead" Templars. If anyone could diffuse this impending shitstorm, it was Cassandra.

They continued into Val Royeaux. Zanrye took in the scenery, marveling at its breathtaking design. It was austere, ballroom-y. But it was elegant nonetheless, complementing its residents perfectly, who adorned masks, shoulder-padding, and tights. In the center of the courtyard, there was a large fountain, around which there stood a stage. Members of the chantry stood upon it. Zanrye parted through the crowd easily, what with Varric and Cassandra at his sides. They helped him carve a path with their confident gaits.

"Behold the so-called herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell!" the Mother was saying. She pointed a finger at the trio. "We say this is a false prophet! No servant beyond his selfish greed!"

"We have an enemy in the breach. We have come here because of that." Zanrye said, trying to remain calm. "Let's sit down and deal with the real threat."

"It's true." Cassandra added. "The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it's too late"

"It is already too late." The Mother cut her off, pointing to the side. She drew attention to the band of Templars coming towards the gathering. Zanrye felt his neck stiffen. _Fuck_. "The Templars have returned to the chantry. They will face this "inquisition" and the people will be safe once more."

They had ascended to the stage but the lord seeker simply passed the mother, who looked after him. It happened fast. In an instant, the Mother was struck on the back of her head and she fell to the floor. Zanrye's eyes were wide with shock as he fought his defensive stance.

Ser Barris, the lead Templar with the Mother, seemed stricken. Zanrye faced the lord seeker who gazed upon them. He forced himself to speak.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" He asked, his eyes and voice cold.

"Her claim of authority is insulting. Much like your own." The Lord seeker said.

"Lord Seeker." Cassandra tried to follow him. "It's imperative I speak with you." He cut her off with a simple, "you will not address me." Cassandra was stunned for a moment and Zanrye knew that things had gone very, very wrong. Whatever they had planned was over now. The Templars were beating to their own drum.

 _Mythal, help us_ , was all Zanrye could think.

* * *

18 YEARS EARLIER

Outside of Orlais, in Churnea, Zanrye is with Lena as she speaks to him—well, more so teaches him. They had recently acquired a new mage, which made two that the keeper needed to train, and one more that could have them spotted out for by the Templars. They had had run-ins before.

Zanrye was sorting through different herbs, seeing which he would give to the healers. It was his apprenticeship, as he was helping their scouts do as much. Lena kept him company sometimes. And good company she was.

"But why would anyone submit to the circles then?" Zanrye asked her. She laughed at this.

"They aren't given a choice." Lena explained. "The shems just take the children who are not sent anyway. Their fear of magic is great. Their most repeated chant is: magic exists to serve man, not to rule him."

"But magic doesn't rule the mages unless they are possessed." Zanrye said.

"It's not quite as simple as that. But shems are terrified of magic. They think of it as an affliction almost." Lena explained.

"What about in Tevinter? It isn't like that over there." Zanrye pointed out.

"The Imperium is very old." Lena said with a sniff. "They have ties in the old days when magic was common and everyday. Their circles don't even really restrain mages. They're almost like boarding school type of facilities over there. But, even still, they fear magic just as they respect it in the Imperium. They don't know anything about what's in the Fade except that it is potentially dangerous and can be used."

"Hm…." Was all Zanrye said. He continued to listen when another girl came through the tent flap. She smiled when she saw them and came to the table where Zanrye was working.

"Hi." She said to him in a sweet, somewhat young voice for being 13 like Zanrye.

"Hi." He returned the greeting.

"I…wondered if maybe you wanted to go for a swim." She said, hope in her voice.

"Sure. I'm almost through here." Zanrye answered her. The girl nodded and then scurried off, her face bright pink, her curly blonde hair bouncing as she power-walked.

"Still weird." Lena remarked.

"What?" Zanrye shot back, defensively.

"Oh nothing." Lena said. Zanrye turned back to the table when Lena continued, "It's just that she's so weird."

"Leave her alone." Zanrye said tiredly.

"I'm not being mean to her." Lena said. "But she seems like you'd get annoyed at her. Serious. Everyone thought it would be Nishia but I knew better. Then we all thought maybe Maura maybe since she does like you, even if you won't see it. But Delia?"

"Delia's nice. I like her." Zanrye said simply.

"Oh sure." Lena scoffed. "You like her as much as I like when keeper yells at us."

"I wouldn't be with her if I didn't like her.' Zanrye said.

"Or because you're too nice to say no." Lena shook her head.

"Lay off." Zanrye said flatly to her. "Delia is my girlfriend and I don't need you hazing her."

"Right, sure." Lena said.

There was silence while she waited for Zanrye to do more work. Then Zanrye suddenly spoke.

"And if we get more mages, then what will happen?" He asked. "If the shems are too afraid of them, won't it making living near them harder—for practice?"

"Probably." Lena answered. "But it won't be more trouble than it's been. If it was, Keeper would know what to do."

"Yeah." Zanrye agreed. Outside the tent was movement that they both knew was Delia. He paused only briefly before continuing his work.

"She's waiting." Lena said unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I'm not done." Zanrye said in a tired voice. When Lena grinned, he added, "when I'm done, I'm going to go."

"Uh huh." Lena nodded and then went back to her own sorting.

* * *

PRESENT

HAVEN

The war council dispersed. Zanrye was in the stables, getting his horse ready. Dorian stood near the caravan, awaiting them. The strange mage had offered his services to them after Zanrye'd helped him close a rift in the chantry at Redcliffe. But Zanrye could imagine this was still hard for the man, though his jokey, superficial exterior told otherwise.

This would be hard on everyone. What Zanrye couldn't fathom was how the breach was such as threat and the Inquisition could still get no support from the world—Orlais to Ferelden to the free Marches. All were either denouncing him because of religion, ready to go to war with him for his growing forces, or were trying to manipulate these dire times for power—such as the Tevinter magister Alexius was. But he was their only 'in' with the mages. And no matter if this invitation was a trap or not, he had to play the bait and go see him. They needed the mages to close the breach.

Zanrye looked up at the sky to the breach itself, still visible yet waning. He had made it stable but it was not gone and therefore would always loom over them, a physical reminder of their impending doom. And of the world itself? That was for philosophers and religious zealots to argue over, he supposed. Either way, he was tied to this whether he wanted to be or not.

"The sooner we deal with Alexius, the better." Cassandra said. She watched as Solas and Sera, their newest edition to the Inquisition and an elven female, exchanged harsh words before they entered the caravan. She sighed with disgust. "Although it will certainly be a long journey."

"As long as we can make it there without Solas binding Sera or putting her into eternal sleep, then we'll be alright." Zanrye said. "And the sooner we can get the mages, the better. No matter what Cullen says, they're the true way to stop this breach."

"I'm sure not the only way." Cassandra said slowly. "But I agree we need something." She paused. "And no one blames you for picking mages over Templars…given other reasons."

She understood his sentiments towards Templars. Zanrye did not indulge it but he didn't refute it either. He just looked at her and nodded. Her hand squeezed his shoulder and then she went to police Solas and Sera in the caravan. This gesture—contact—from a shem just a few weeks earlier would have made him flinch and shudder. Zanrye couldn't help but feel the irony. Solas and he were allies at best and now the first thing Sera had said to him when he asked her to join the inquisition was "oh, you're an elf." She was against Solas's obsession with the past but wasn't into Zanrye's Dalish origin or loyalty to elves either. The only ones who seemed to understand and care where people like Cassandra and Josephine.

Josephine herself appeared right then almost out of thin air. He had undone and then retightened the saddle on his horse (the horse master always did it too tight for his swift pony) but kept his grip on it as he saw her approaching. A mix of happiness to see her and apprehension came back to him. It happened when he saw her unexpectedly from time to time. It was dumb, honestly. He was afraid of her changing on him, reverting to what he expected from the shems. But she hadn't. She wouldn't if all fared well.

"Herald." She greeted him.

"Ambassador." Zanrye said to her, grip loosening on the saddle as he turned to face her.

"Leliana's people are already within the castle," She reminded him. "You will not be alone. But try to glean why Alexius would want you dead—and what exactly it is that he wants—before causing a fight."

"I'll try." Zanrye promised.

"I do not have to tell you to be careful." She said. "But…do be careful."

"Of course." Zanrye said. "I know my part…and I won't fail."

"I will keep you all up to date here should things prolong." She said. "If you do not return within the timetable, I will send out most of our remaining frontal troops and scouts to investigate and possibly aid you in your predicament."

"Good thinking." Zanrye nodded. He thought and then continued, "As always. Odd you aren't considered the leader already."

"Leader?" Josephine asked.

"Of the Inquisition." Zanrye said. "We've still not chosen a leader and you are the most viable."

"Oh I couldn't." Josephine waved him off. Zanrye frowned. Her modesty was unwarranted.

"Of course you could. Your connections are critical to the prosperity of it all." Zanrye said. "Everything you're able to do…everything you've done for me and all I see you doing for the Inquisition. Where would we be without that?"

"Everyone plays an integral part." Josephine said humbly. "Without Leliana, we would not have the information we need nor the ability to handle things subtly and outside of the public eye. Without Cullen, we would be lost militarily and without proper direction and training. Without Cassandra, we would never have even formed and she catalyzes us and is your best line of defense out in the field—our sword and shield so to speak. And I…"

"You handle everything political." Zanrye offered, "Opportunities, allies, connections… legitimacy." Josephine nodded.

"Precisely." She agreed. "Which I could not do without everything—including your own actions herald…and your willingness to be a part." She sighed contentedly. "That is all I wished to discuss. I do not wish to keep you longer; but do be careful and get in and out swiftly." Her face remained plain but her eyebrow edges betrayed her, showing her doubt…or worry.

 _Worried about_ _me_ _?_ Zanrye's inner mind thought and he instantly turned from her. That was another reason for his apprehension around her. That small voice in him telling him idiotic semi-conscious (and denied conscious) thoughts he had. There was an edge to the statement.

"Keep everything together here while Cassandra and I are gone." He told her, climbing onto his horse. "We'll be back and the rift will be closed before too long."

"I will." Josephine smiled and then turned to walk back to the chantry and her office. She walked with pep. _Is that a sway in her hips?_ Zanrye sighed at his thoughts and then signaled the caravan driver and they set off to Redcliffe. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as they thought.

REDCLIFFE

"The inquisition needs mages to close the breach. And I have them. So, what shall you offer in return?" Alexius asked. Zarye and the others stood before him, glaring. He knew the agents were around even as the Tevinter assassins were. But he chose to heed Josephine's warnings.

"I'd much rather discuss your time magic." Zanrye said slightly cocky. Alexius didn't flinch.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean." He said.

"He knows everything father," Alexius's son Felix (who had informed them of everything earlier alongside the mysterious mage Dorian). There was a true pause. Alexius turned to his son.

"Felix, what have you done?" Alexius asked gravely.

"Your son is concerned that you're involved in something terrible." Zanrye said, an edge to his voice. He was not going to be comforting so much as reasonable. Alexius wouldn't have it.

"So speaks the thief. You think you can turn my son against me!?" Alexius asked. He stood. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don't even understand—and think you're in control?" Zanrye tensed and saw from the corner of his eye, one Venatori guard disappear. He kept his cool. Alexius continued even still, "You're nothing but a mistake."

Zanrye ignored him.

"What is the mark?" Zanrye asked, the accusation in his voice. "What do you know about the Divine's death?" He crossed his arms.

"It was the elder one's moment and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence."

"Father listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?" Felix asked, desperation thick. Another venatori disappeared.

"He sounds exactly like the villainous cliché that everyone expects us to be." Dorians stepped forward from the shadows, where he had waited. This seemed to stop Alexius. Zanrye held his breath. Was it Dorian that was needed?

"I gave you a chance and you turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He can raise the imperium from its own ashes." Alexius said, his façade continuing to crumble.

"Who is the Elder One?" Zanrye asked testily. He was beginning to get angry at all this secrecy and mystery.

"Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen!" Dorian interrupted. He was adamant. "Why would you support this!?" Zanrye saw yet another Venatori go down and his ears began to buzz. Felix came to Alexius's side and began to bicker with his father. Zanrye knew what was coming, could feel it. _Should we have just gone to the Templars?_ He wondered.

"The Elder one promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple…" Alexius said desperately, his voice mirroring the quickly darkening situation as things became a lot more serious.

"I'm going to die father. You need to accept that." Felix said sadly but his father was already moving forward. Zanrye clenched his jaw. Who was this Elder One? What did he want? If only he could remember what had happened at the temple then maybe…. Maybe things wouldn't be becoming so Gods damned confusing.

"Seize them, venatori. The elder one demands this elf's life." Alexius said with some pause. The words had no sooner left his mouth before the rest of his guards fell to the ground and the spies emerged from the shadows. The magister's eyes widened and Zanrye knew they had the upper hand. His mind had many questions, all of which needed answers immediately, and he took a step forward. This situation had not in fact gone to shit.

"Your men are dead Alexius." Zanrye said. "Come quietly for questioning and you won't follow." He could not hide his smugness from the statement. But Alexius's face was bitter and his rage was near palpable.

"You…are a mistake! You should never have existed!" He was summoning. A cube rose out of his hand and Zanrye put a hand to the hilt of his sword, backing up a step. His body became rigid at the same time.

"Solas…" He heard himself say but as soon as the words left his mouth, he heard Dorian cry out "No!" and send a blast towards the magister—his mentor and friend and a servant of some elder one. The blast sent Alexius backtracking and a portal sprang upon the stage. Zanrye felt himself lose footing as well as his mark began to buzz and glow.

Then it all went dark.

* * *

23 YEARS EARLIER

The girl was inside still. 8 year old Zanrye knew he should not be here but he had to be here. He waited patiently. It was always around this time. He had to see it. He couldn't just wait for it. The shem girl with the dark hair and the light skin. She would come to him this evening. She would like she had every week now. He would wait for her. If the others caught him…. If Nishia caught him, she'd smack him across the head for sure.

The girl came to the window and looked out. Zanrye waved out a hand from his hiding place in the brush. The forests on the edge of Montfort, Orlais were lush and thick and he didn't need much to become one with the colors of nature. The girl squinted then saw him then ran from the window. He heard sounds of others talking, big shems. Scary shems. Shems who would likely chop up a little boy and wear the pieces as jewelry, like Po said. Or who would throw him in the river, like Lena swore she saw happen.

The girl came out now, in her tights and long skirts. She walked away from the small shack and wandered to the hiding spot. Zanrye backed up deeper into the woods and came to a small opening big enough for a few people to sit. He waited and she emerged from the grass, barely lit by the moon. She had long hair tied up into a bun with braids on the side. She smiled at him.

"Hi." She greeted him and Zanrye smiled shyly back with a mumbled hi in return. She smiled and sat before him. Zanrye and her stared at each other for some time, minutes passing by and then finally Zanrye spoke.

"I have three stories." He said.

"I can give you three elfroots." She said.

"Royal elfroot." He reminded her. She nodded as an 'of course' type of way. Zanrye was satisfied by this and then thought for a time.

"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you about the great Reedan. He went to save his almost-wife and his cousin when the evil lord took them from the alienage." He said.

"Ooooh. Yes." She said, her eyes lighting up. She closed them only to put her hand on the ground. She concentrated, her brow furrowing before slowly, the earth began to split open ever so slightly and a green wisp of a leaf appeared. She kept her eyes closed and it continued to grow. Zanrye was in awe and watched her work her magic—magic she told him not to tell anyone else of when he caught her using it the first time. Magic that made her and her family live on the edge of the woods in case anything happened and a Templar were to take her away to a "circle"—whatever that was.

She did things he had never even seen Keeper do. She was making the plant from nothing. It was astounding and magnificent and queer. It was beautiful. How could a shem be able to do such a thing? He had been formulating a way of asking Keeper to reproduce this trick.

Soon, the elfroot stood tall and the girl uprooted it and handed it to Zanrye who inhaled deeply once it was in his grasp. It was for his father. Well, his real father. He vaguely remembered flashes of what he had looked like. And there were portraits. He did not really remember him totally and truly but he felt him. He felt connected to the images he saw of him and could remember a certain voice forming words, some of them in elven, others not. He remembered the scent of the royal elfroot. He remembered…leather. And boots.

"Okay, go on." She said to him. Zanrye was reciting Ponawen now, gearing up. In exchange for magical wonders of the physical world, he was paying this girl with mental wonders—things she could only dream of.

She was a shem, yes. But from the moment he caught her, he had known somewhere that he shouldn't necessarily be afraid of her. She was nice and kind and did the magic of the Keeper. Zanrye did not fear her as he did any of the others.

"Well this man was going to be married." He said. "And he and his cousin were very close to each other. And his father. They were the only family he had left. His mother died when he was very, very young…."

* * *

PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

Zanrye awoke dizzy. He stood up slowly, only to find that he was ankle—deep in water. His senses kicked back in immediately and he unsheathed his greatsword—spinning around in a circle. There was no danger…at least not yet. He heard stirring to his right and found Dorian walking, seeming to be testing his legs as well. He was muttering to himself, his eyes on Zanrye who lowered his sword and approached the shem.

"What?" Zanrye asked him, unable to understand what the shem was saying.

"Ah!" Dorian had an epiphany. "It isn't simply where…it's when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. He moved us through time."

Zanrye said nothing for a moment and then he looked up to the ceiling and then down again to the water around their ankles. _Creators…_ he thought _I just wanted to use some mages and close the sky hole and be done with it already_. Now he was in another time!? His distress must've shown. Dorian spoke.

"Moving through, though it seems unlikely usually, doesn't mean we are indeed stuck where Alexius left us." He said.

"What was he trying to do?" Zanrye asked.

"Remove you from time completely I presume." Dorian said simply. "If that happened, you would never have been at the temple of sacred ashes or mangled his elder one's plan."

"And who is this elder one?" Zanrye asked rhetorically. "We still don't even know."

"Some magister or leader of the venatori I presume." Dorian offered. "Aspiring to godhood. It's the same old tune: 'Let's play with magic we don't understand. That'll make us incredibly powerful. Evidently, it doesn't matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process." Zanrye sighed heavily and groaned audibly to which the shem replied, "Well in any case, he sent us through before we were ready." Dorian said. "I countered it, the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?" Zanrye sighed and raised a hand to massage his forehead.

"It just seems so insane." He said tiredly.

"I don't even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world. We didn't travel through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it to the privy." He said seriously. "But don't worry. I'm here. I'll protect you." And Zanrye would welcome that, with his magic. But in an instance, Solas filled his mind and he was instantly filled with panic. What had happened to him? Would he be able to help them? And Cassandra? He asked Dorian.

"There were others in the room. Would they have been taken into the past as well?"

"I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through." Dorian said. "Alexius wouldn't risk catching himself or Felix. They're probably still where and when we left them. In some sense, anyway." Zanrye nodded, looking around the room.

"Well you have a plan to get us out I hope." He said.

"I have thoughts toward such." Dorian said. "They're lovely. Like little jewels."

Zanrye almost rolled his eyes but gestured to the door and Dorian went before him. They traveled up one staircase after another, Dorian constantly giving Zanrye information he did not ask for but still appreciated for the distraction. They'd been in storage and were in the prisons. It was wet and dark and cold. And if Dorian hadn't just been lying to him, they might make it out of here—with their friends in tow.

* * *

23 YEARS EARLIER

The girl did not come this day. But the light was on in the house. What was happening? Where was she? She said she'd come.

8 year old Zanrye waited for her far past the time he knew he had allotted for their usual meeting. He saw people moving quickly. What was wrong? Should he leave? Was there a shem party?

Then he heard the boots. Big and heavy footsteps disturbed the night. Shining armor—mostly grey—came into the light of the lamp and then there was more flurry in the house. Zanrye was terrified but he edged forward. His friend was in there. What was going on?

They barked out orders outside the door, the Val Royeaux accents heavy and thick. There was some hesitation. Then Zanrye saw the back windows silently open and a pack drop to the ground with a light plop. And there she was, body folded over the opening, her dark hair swinging down.

Zanrye wanted to call out to her but he was still paralyzed. He smiled to himself. She was in fact coming this night. He had been worried.

Then the door cracked and splintered open and the footsteps were muffled within the home. Voices rang out—pleads and people begging and yelling. There was a thud and a crash and then she was shoved through the remainder of the window, falling onto her face.

Zanrye gasped and jumped to his feet and the girl's tear-streaked face rose and looked in his direction. Their eyes found each other and recognition was there. Zanrye emerged from the shadows, worry on his face. The girl's face looked surprised and she almost smiled before the panic came back.

"No." She hissed at him. As soon as she did, there was an ear-splitting scream from the house, with the sounds of swords being unsheathed and a heavy thud and then…the sound of steel hitting flesh. Then there was a brilliant flash of green light and gruffer hollering.

The girl scrambled to her feet, her tears continuing to come and then she looked at her house for a fleeting moment before running northward. Zanrye came out and ran behind her. Her satchel bounced on her side as she sprinted.

Zanrye did not know where they were running to but he did not stop. He wanted to know her destination, what had happened, why she was running from her parents, who those men were.

And he got his answer as she stopped suddenly near the edge of the forest. She stopped, gasping for breath, doubled over. Zanrye was heaving as well but stood straight, watching her. He wished he had brought something to give her, some water maybe. But then she produced water from her satchel and drunk and then offered it to him. Zanrye hesitated a second—drinking shem spit was something beyond what he had ever done—but then he took it and sipped lightly.

"Where are we going?" He asked her finally. The girl finished panting and then she whimpered and looked at him.

"You have to go." She said to him. "You have to go."

"Why? What about your parents?" He asked her. The girl was still crying. She shook her head.

"The Templars…they found us." She said bitterly. The men in the armor flashed into Zanrye's mind. 'Tem-plars.'

"Did they…did they hurt your parents?" He asked, scared.

"They are going to take us to the circle." She shook her head. Zanrye did not fully understand but he knew enough to know the circle was like a prison and the Templars must be people out to capture her and her family. For having magic?

"You can…I can help you." Zanrye told her. It would be hard to hide his shem from his mother but from everyone else, she would be safe. He didn't want to let her go off.

"No." She shook her head. "You have to go."

"Why?" He asked her impatiently.

"Because you're an elf." She said simply. "They will find you just like me and do something different to you but bad anyway."

The stories from Po and Nishia came flooding into Zanrye's mind. These shems…out to hurt them…if he was caught. _Oh no_ ….

"But…where are you going?" He asked.

"My parents told me to go to my aunt and uncle northway." She said.

"I can go there with you so you're not alone." Zanrye offered. She shook her head again.

"You can't." She said, a bit impatient. "You're an elf. My aunt and uncle…they'll…they might do bad things to you."

Zanrye could not understand this. Why would they do bad things to him? He was her friend. She did not do bad things to him. What did she mean?

She did not elaborate or wait. She instead turned on her heel and then left him there. She stopped only reach into the satchel and take out another royal elfroot and come back to give it to him.

"You don't have to tell me a story." She said and then began to run away. Zanrye wanted to follow her, to make her come with him, to go to her aunt and uncle's house. But she was running, becoming lost in the dark night, becoming smaller and smaller.

His feet remained paralyzed.

* * *

PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

There was a smack from inside the cellar. Zanrye tensed. He moved slowly, Dorian in step with him. He knew that voice. Just as he had known the voices of his friends in the dungeons… Cassandra…still so hopeful for him and glad to see him. And Solas…poor Solas… what did he say? "I am dying but no matter…." Zanrye had almost cringed and felt more empathy for the mage than he'd ever felt before. He didn't just need him, he wanted to save him—from whatever this existence was. He would undo this.

And now he was hearing the sounds outside the door. "There is no one left to protect…." Zanrye and Dorian stood outside the door before they heard movement.

"You will break!" The male said. Zanrye could not stand anymore and opened the door to see a haggard and scarred Leliana have a knife pressed against her face.

"I will die first." She said darkly. Her eyes turned to see the two men standing in the corner and then her voice became even lower. "Or you will." Her legs were crushing the guard's throat in seconds. He fell to the floor and her eyes, calculating and amazed, came back to them, focusing on Zanrye. "You're alive."

Zanrye felt his stomach twist in sympathy and unchained her, lowering her as gently as she would let him before trying to get out of his grip.

"That was…impressive." He managed.

"Anger is stronger than any pain," She replied before looking around. "Do you have weapons?" Zanrye nodded. "Good. The magister is probably in his chambers."

"You aren't curious how we got here?" Dorian inquired as she walked to check a chest.

"No." Leliana said simply.

"Well," Dorian began anyway, "Aelxius sent us into the future. This—his victory, his elder one, it was never meant to be." Leliana said nothing.

"If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, you'll never have to go through this." Zanrye told her. Leliana stopped at that and faced the two of them. Happiness and relief were nowhere to be seen in her expression.

"And mages always wonder why people fear them." She said darkly. "No one should have this power. No one."

"It's dangerous and unpredictable." Dorian argued. "But before the breach, nothing we did—

"Enough." Leliana's soft voice quieted the mage and Zanrye kept his mouth shut as well. She paced, "This is all pretend to you—some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered!" She paused, glaring. "It was real."

Her words chilled him—chilled them both. She led the way and Zanrye followed in silence, trailing after her. It was true…this happened…this other universe. The shems, the elves, everyone. They had suffered this. Solas was dying. Cassandra in agony. Leliana hard as stone. The inquisition…done. He could only imagine what became of his clan….

She has said "no one should have this power." And was it true? The Templars were the enemy weren't they? They had always been the enemy, attempting to persecute innocents and drive the elves off from the city edges. They and their chantry supporting sentiments that sent shem children after elven ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But did that mean that the shem mages were innocent? The shem mages who could cause all of this to happen—the destruction of a world, descent into death and chaos following a demon—which is what the elder one probably was.

Templars had always been the enemy…but were mages so different? Were they, in truth, actually any better?

* * *

23 YEARS EARLIER

He knew he shouldn't have been out there or followed the girl's trail but still he lingered. That had been a mistake. As he traveled along the edges of the towns, trying to get his bearings and take it in before heading back home, he had run into trouble. He had only wanted to get a last glimpse of her. Somehow he knew…this would be the last time he saw her….

"Hey!" He heard. It was a jeering sound. He saw now that he had wandered too close to the town and was near a boy maybe a few years earlier than him. The pale light of dawn was upon them, the sky grey-blue and the fields lush green. The boy was near the outskirts with a staff being carved into a spear. His eyes were wide as they focused on Zanrye. He stood as they made eye contact. His head turned over his shoulder as he relayed information to his friends farther off.

Zanrye was like a dear in headlights. He took one step after another back, seeing finally more shem children come. He realized he must've been by a school house of some sort. There were three, then four. Then six. Some looked like the other shem girl, his friend, but their faces were different. It was in the eyes. Cold, calculating. Dark. Their round ears, small eyes, and big faces seemed unnatural. They began to come his way, mouths wide and eyes big. Or angry.

And then he ran. He knew he had to get out of here. His friend's words echoed in his mind. They would hurt him—do bad things to him. There were so many. Instantly, four took off after him, even though he was going deeper into the woods. Zanrye's heart beat fast in his chest. He sped up as much as she could, nearly tripping. He darted to the right and kept on, trying to shake them off. He did not dare look back just yet, that would only slow him down.

He did not know quite how it happened but there was a pain in his back, right below his shoulder blade. And he faltered ever so slightly, still running, but then no! There was another pain, this one in his lower back, he faltered briefly, catching himself from tripping.

That was all it took.

They were on him before he could blink. He was tripped and hit round the back of his head. Head swinging, he fell to the ground and felt boots contact his torso. The pain began to overtake the shock and horror that controlled him. He opened his eyes, and wrapped his arms around himself. He tried to look up but his vision was swimming. The faces were distorted. Three, four, five. So many. And the sounds! Creators, the sounds! All it was, was fists and feet and jeers; attacking him every which way. He could not breathe, or see, or escape the pain. And their cries all around him. The piercing shrieks….

He took a foot to the ear and then his head was ringing, the pain jolting him to the side. He tried to crawl away, realized his knee had been bruised. _Mama_ , he thought, crying. _Baba…_ They would surely hear his cries. They would surely save him from the pain. He would not stray from the path again. He would not go near the shems again. _MAMA. BABA_

"Knife ear! Blighter!" He heard around him. _Please stop_. Did he speak it or think it? He needed to get away. Pain coursed through him. More kicks, more hits. Feet grounding his fingers into the earth. Wood spear shoved into his spine. Pretty shoes with long ribbons kicking his face and making him see stars.

He would be another story…another…like the "Elf Who Strayed From The Path." Like "Elf Among Shems." Like another victim to the shems. _mama…baba…._

The jeers became screams but he couldn't tell when. There was a scuffling going on. Zanrye tried to pull his arms out from protecting his face and chest. What was going on? Templars?

Feet ran away from him as other feet approached him. Just one pair. Followed by dark brown hands lifting his face upward to look.

Nishia stood over him, a club slung over her back and a half-open flask in her other hand.

Relief flooded Zanrye and his muscles released tension. He felt himself start to cry some more and Nishia's hand cradled his face.

"We have to go, Zanrye." She said to him. "I can help you but you have to help yourself too."

Zanrye heard her. He did his best to will his body to rise but he was faint. With a bit of struggle, he finally was able to rise to his butt. His head throbbed and his body shook. Nishis capped the flask and put it back on her belt before taking a cloth to wipe the blood from Zanrye's tender eyes. Gently and with care.

"Was…" he tried to speak but it hurt too bad. He realized that his throat had been kicked and he grimaced and touched it with a weak hand.

"Don't talk yet." Nishia ordered and then gripped his shoulders. "Zanrye…we have to go now. Okay? You're going to have to stand. We have to go. Do you understand?"

Zanrye understood perfectly. They had to go. They. Elves. The girl had said it. Nishia said it. There was no place in the shem world for them. She had warned him that he was not safe. But she was a shem wasn't she? Were magic shems different? Was she different?

He let Nishia help him fully to his feet and aid him as they made the very long journey back to their camp.

* * *

PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

His rage was palpable when he entered the chamber. Alexius was alone and with his son. Zanrye's arms buzzed. He felt hate towards the filthy shem mage, tearing apart the world and the inquisition, hurting his friends—his people.

When Leliana's blade found the son, Felix's throat, Zanrye had a rush of lust fill him. He wanted her to do it, to kill the boy and watch the hope and happiness leave Alexius when she did. But she paused and so Zanrye paused, gathering his wits. The magister's pleas were like music to him. _Just like the rest…_

"Please! Don't hurt my son! I'll do anything you ask!" He said wildly. Though monstrous, Zanrye knew the lengths parents would go. He spoke with the last shred of mercy he had left, his voice grudging and strained.

"Give us the amulet…" he said slowly. "And…and we'll let him go."

"Release him and I swear, you'll get what you want." Alexius begged. Zanrye saw the resolution in Leliana's eyes before the blow came.

"I want the world back." She said hollowly before she slit Felix's throat.

Alexius's anguish was fragrant within the air as Zanrye sprang to action, unsheathing his sword. He would kill him. He struck and dodged, the blast from the magister knocking him back once, then twice. He staggered as he blocked the third blast and Dorian aimed attacks of his own. Alexius was crazy, as any father would be. But he wasn't just a father. He was a menace. He would pay. He was a mistake. He did not deserve to exist.

The final blow had Zanrye heaving. The viciousness of the attack left his arms shaking and he shook them out gingerly. Dorian crouched over the dead body but Zarnye walked from him. Let him mourn alone. Zanrye only wanted to get away—go home. Stop this damned future. The building shook and he nearly lost his footing, grimacing. _NOW WHAT!?_

"You cannot stay here." Solas said, voice urgent. He looked into Zanrye's eyes and for the first time, Zanrye saw fear and submission in the man's eyes. And it broke Zanrye's heart. Solas looked to the others and continued, "Go. We'll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it'll be your turn."

"NO!" Zanrye hadn't realized he would yell. "I will NOT let you commit suicide." He looked at their faces. Cassandra had not said a word but had conclusiveness on her face.

"Look at us. We're already dead. The only way we'll live is if this day never comes." Leliana explained. She began to walk. "Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows."

The assault closed. They were coming. Dorian worked, not saying a word and Zanrye watched, helpless to do anything. They heard the fight that was put up but then Cassandra's body was flung, lifeless, into the room as the doors burst open. Demons, wraiths, terrors…. Zanrye swallowed nothing and looked to Dorian. Leliana drew an arrow. And prayed.

One arrow. Two. Four. Five. Zanrye felt his feet move to her and Dorian held him back, the portal opening. No. Zanrye couldn't keep watching but couldn't stop and turn away. And he barely got a glimpse of Leliana get taken down as well by a army of abominations before everything faded into white….

HAVEN

Zanrye sat on the wall, watching the soldiers talk and drink and everyone get along. He felt numb to the wind whipping against him. He didn't know what to feel exactly….

He had given the mages an alliance only because he knew he needed their full cooperation. He knew it displeased Cassandra but she agreed that after the breach was closed, then the terms could change…. Maybe they should change….

Before, Zanrye had never even considered enslaving the mages to his cause. But now….

"aneth ara." Solas greeted him, coming to stand a ways away from where Zanrye sat. He wore a calm expression and had his eyes fixed on Zanrye.

"You're already getting informal." Zanrye stood and walked to the older man. "dar ma'belas?" Solas chuckled at this and shook his head.

"Your elven is rough." He said. "There but…rough."

"My friend Nishia was always better at it. I could never quite get it all." Zanrye smiled back.

"At any rate…I am fine." Solas said. "The important thing is that you gained the mages. Which is excellent. They will be able to seal the breach."

"Hopefully at no great cost." Zanrye said, looking off. Solas paused.

"You are certain you experienced time travel?" He asked Zanrye, his eyes bright. "Could it have been an illusion? Or a trick of the fade?" _Great, more fade talk_ , Zanrye thought but with less irritation than he expected. He arched an eyebrow at Solas, almost smirking bitterly.

"You think Alexius made an illusion of his life going down in flames?" He challenged.

"Point taken." Solas conceded. He looked off into the night before his voice returned. "It is vital that the inquisition succeed then…to avoid the future you witnessed."

"Whatever happens, I won't let that come to pass." Zanrye vowed unnecessarily, his jaw tightening. Solas gave him a smile that Zanrye let calm him.

"It has affected you strongly." He said. "But you are taking it quite well all things considered."

"Well, I have to." Zanrye shrugged. "And I wouldn't be functioning if it was more than I could handle to see. I wouldn't have made it out…. That and…there are worse things than a future averted." They said nothing for a time when Solas turned and Zanrye saw Josephine approaching. He inhaled and then Solas turned back to him.

"I will be at my cabin if you need me." He said, offering more bonding and comradere. Zanrye watched him leave before he turned back to Josephine.

"Herald." She greeted him. "I understand you may wish to be alone but I just wanted to inform you we received a messenger from the Iron Bull's Company who wished to speak with you about possible recruitment. And whenever you are ready, Cullen wishes to speak with you on training the mages for our attempt on the breach. And all of us would like to know how much time you will give the mages before we make our attempt."

She said this all very quickly and Zanrye processed about one quarter, sighing. He looked back into her eyes and then heard the voice again. _She has very pretty eyes_.

"I think I'll deal with this Bull character and speak to Cullen in the morning." He decided. Josephine nodded and then, when he didn't move, said, "To ease myself after a great deal of stress, I usually massage my neck."

Zanrye stared at her. Realizing how out of place the sentence was, Josephine continued.

"The tension would likely build up in the neck and in the shoulders. I usually massage there before attempting to go to sleep." She explained. "Singing or music would also be ideal but as the bard is currently sleeping…."

Zanrye kept his stare, processing, and then smiled and gave a chuckle of his own. There was nothing even remotely funny but it made him laugh. A lot. His chuckle turned into downright guffawing with her joining in after a time.

"I think…I think sleep will be fine." Zanrye said to her, catching his breath.

"As you will." Josephine nodded at him.

"Though I'll try your…neck massage…some other time." He promised sassily.

"It works!" Josephine began to protest but then just shook her head. "Find rest herald."

"You too." He told her and then she turned away from him, walking back to the chantry. Zanrye walked back to his own cabin, which was near Solas's and collapsed into his bed, barely kicking off his boots before he did so. He found sleep within minutes, and-for some reason-could swear that he could indeed hear singing somewhere.

Maybe from his own head. Or maybe not.


	5. Comfort is Never Far

[QUICK WARNING AND MESSAGE]

[WARNING: CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF RAPE AND TORTURE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED]

[ALSO: Sorry the last few chapters have been very long. I tried to put a whole scene into one chapter and this one covers a lot of backstory. I'll try to keep future chapters around or under 5,000 words]

* * *

STORM COAST

He is able to return to camp in little to no time at all. Everything is falling into place, all things considered. Iron Bull's company may be mercenaries but Zanrye believed them when they said they were the best money could buy. A qunari alone was formidable but one that was battle-trained and in command of hardened killers was even more of a prize.

"The caravan is already prepped for departure." Solas said to him as they stopped to get some water, though they could have simply turned their mouths towards the sky and drank. The rain was still pouring as it had been since they'd arrived. There was at most a 2-hour interval in which it had ceased. As for Solas, tensions had continued to dissipate after their encounter with the mages. Their interactions became more frequent and, though he hated to admit it, Zanrye had considered this a victory of friendship. He wanted to be Solas's friend since the beginning and the older man would no doubt still be gleeful and consider him "more wise" now. Though it was for wrong reasons, it was a step towards better understanding.

"A raven's come in, ser." The req officer came up to them. Zanrye glanced her way and then spoke to Solas.

"Give me a moment and then I'll join you all. And tell Varric not to bother Krem with his stories. She isn't very talkative and we don't want anything changing Bull's plans." He said no more and instead took the scroll, trying to keep it safe from the downpour. From the handwriting, he knew it was Josephine's. Cradling the parchment in close to him, he made it through the first paragraph, blinked, and his eyes scanned it again. He reached the end and still his gaze would not fall upon anything else—anything further. He read the top again…and again…and again. His eyes finally left the parchment and looked out at the sea before the campsite. They glistened.

"Ser?" The requisition officer asked him, alarmed that Zanrye was mounting his horse. Zanrye did not respond. His grip on the reigns was tight and his head was pounding. He snapped the leather and set off at a sprint. The cold air rushed past him and rain struck his face smartly as he shot like a bullet through it. The greenery to his left meshed into a frenzy of green…then brown …then green…. His right held nothing but the desolate blue.

Mouth firmly closed, a whimper escaped him as he galloped. He snapped the leather again and again, urging his beast to go faster. To run away, so fast and far that they would spin back in time, before he'd read the note, before he'd gotten the mark. Hell, before any of them had left home for the conclave at all.

Another whimper came and very soon, there was a tumultuous assault on his face, one of tears and rain and sweat; they coated his cheeks and blurred his vision. He heard his strangled grunts escape one after another, his horse panting as they trekked past the large hills and mountains and abandoned the coast. He saw the driftwood margin camp was in range and not too soon. Sliding off of the horse without even waiting for time to stop, Zanrye nearly fell on his face, right knee saving him but taking on the full impact of his fall. His jaw remained clenched. A scout came to his side but Zanrye rose quickly and brushed the man off harshly.

"Herald!" The man called out to him. "We didn't—the caravan is—"

"I'm not going!" Zanrye choked out, not looking back as his feet quickly closed the distance between him and a tent.

"But ser—I," the scout began but Zanrye was not listening. He tore open the tent flap and closed it securely behind him before collapsing onto his hands and knees and letting his sorrow take him. Tears fell, pouring with intensity to rival the rain outside. Zanrye's hand gripped the bedroll, his fists shaking and teeth chattering as his sobs came free. His other hand still clutched the letter. Zanrye viciously threw it to the side and then threw the bedroll for good measure as well. When relief did not come, he let his body fall to the side, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso—knees rising to create some semblance of an infantile position. The tears did not stop. The pain did not leave. To the side, the crumpled mess of parchment lay there, in Josephine's lovely handwriting, carrying news of the procurement of Ponawen's lifeless body.

* * *

26 YEARS EARLIER

ORLAIS (forest)

"Nishia will be here around midday, remember." Rista said to Ponawen—the 14 year old babysitter for the children while she was out gathering herbs. Narvez was out on construction with the others of his trade but would be coming home soon. Ponawen nodded to her.

"I know ma." He said almost teasingly. "You told me earlier."

"Well I don't know if it goes in the first time." Rista said in a half-stern tone. Ponawen gave her his signature, toothy grin.

"I always hear you the first time." He said. "I hear you loud and clear."

"Good." Rista smirked. "Remember, Narvez will come home early tonight." With that, she gave the old boy a kiss to the forehead before heading out the door. Ponawen looked to the 6 year old Zanrye, placing tiny figures into an arrangement. His grey eyes were bright as he looked at the older boy. His gold-brown hair was twisted into short, loose waves. Not too far off, Mima lay in a crib, sleeping.

"You tryin to tell me you want a story?" Ponawen asked the boy, eyebrow arched. Zanrye's cheeks formed into a smile and he nodded. Ponawen rolled his eyes and sat before the kid he was to babysit. His large hands took each of the wooden figures in them, eyeing them. A few men, a few women, a few smaller men and women, a _(ram thing), and a dragon of course. And then there were the figures of the Gods. "Let's see…the general…the maiden's breath…the merchant's song…. Any sound good?"

"Do the cursed keeper." Zanrye said, scooting closer to Ponawen who eyed him.

"I've done that a few times already, Rye-Rye." He said, using his nickname he'd developed for the child over the course of his years watching him.

"Do it." Zanrye insisted and Ponawen submitted with a mocking scowl.

"Alright then." He said and grabbed one man and four men and women. He swept together dust on the floor and then began. "So…years ago…before the fifth blight, a Dalish keeper of one of the lost clans was leading his people through the Brecilian Forest—in search of a safe place to settle down because they'd been on the run for along time." He put a man on the floor.

"Because the shems wanted their treasure." Zanrye informed the older boy.

"Do you want to tell it or are you gonna let me?" Ponawen gave an unconvincing glare. Zanrye laughed at his face and shook his head. "As I was saying…: they had been on the run from shems who were treasure hunters who wanted the ancient heirlooms and artifacts protected by this clan's keeper. But they got to the Brecilian Forest finally and were ready to settle…only to find the forest had other occupants—shems. But shems of another nature. They didn't just want the treasure; they wanted to kidnap and kill—and hurt—every elf in the clan just for being there." He put down three men and women and sprinkled dirt on them to signify they were human and not elf, as all the figures had elf ears. At their feet, he put a few figures face-down.

Zanrye's eyes were intently focused on the older boy—as they got whenever they shared these kinds of stories. He never blinked. He was too enthralled.

"But the cunning keeper wouldn't stand for this." Ponawen said cockily. "He realized the evils that were in these shems hearts so he devised a plan: he took the great wolf Witherfang and bound the spirit of the forest to him." Ponawen looked around and spotted a rock holding down a bundle of herbs and used that to serve as the wolf. "This monster was so large and scary that even the elves would not look him in the eye. But keeper used his magic to set him on the heartless shems. And Witherfang killed them, almost all of them, one by one."

"But not the ones he changed." Zanrye said in a soft, low voice, hands hugging his knees. Ponawen shook his head.

"No." He said. "Others were only cursed by him—becoming werewolves themselves. They would be crazed and rabid in days and hear howls in their minds, never getting to sleep." He looked around for more rocks and as he was doing so the door was knocked on. He didn't get a chance to ask who it was before 8 year old Nishia came in. She was a dark skinned, skinny child with startling green eyes and a mightier-than-thou attitude that made Ponawen roll his eyes now as he saw her.

"Nishia." He said to her. "You interrupted the story." The girl said nothing but walked over to where they were and stood before Zanrye, looking into his eyes.

"We're gonna do Elven." She informed him. Her voice, thought high pitched and young, was a voice that carried a soft-spoken confidence. She spoke as if a commander to a subordinate, her tone only lightly touched by a hint of sweetness to signify that she and Zanrye were friends. Her eyes were always bright and yet…always bored.

"After the story." Zanrye proposed. Nishia didn't move. She looked from Po to him and then spoke again.

"We're gonna do Elven." She said.

"Sit down, kid." Ponawen said to her.

"You aren't my babysitter." She said to him.

"I am if you're coming to see Zanrye." Ponawen snorted. "Now you sit down or you can go home." There was movement behind them. Ponawen looked to the rustling baby Mima in the crib. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with—a screaming, crying, needy baby. He turned back to the other two kids, "And keep your voice down. Baby's sleeping."

"We're almost to the big part." Zanrye told her. Nishia said nothing but walked over to the table and started unrolling parchment. That was a signal that she was waiting—and also a signal for them to carry on. _Brat_ , was all that Ponawen could think. He turned to Zanrye again.

"Where was I?" He asked.

"More wolves. They're cursed." Zanrye encouraged him, eyes now locking into focus.

"Oh yes." Ponawen said. "So now…Witherfang has a pack of wolves. And even though the shems try to escape it, the curse carries through their families. And their lives are extended. So now they must be in agony and a constant state of craziness and obedience to Witherfang for hundreds of years. But then something changed. Something happened to Witherfang and suddenly, all of the wolves he'd been amassing—uh making—, he set them against the keeper and his clan. Some men and women were caught and turned into wolves too. Other's died instantly. The keeper had to use all of his magics to stop Witherfang and his pack from beating them all back. But now, to this day, they are at war with the descendants of the cursed wolves, and Witherfang and the spirit of the woods now works against the elves and all other elves who go there. Some try to go in and make home once more but they're never heard from again."

As he ended, the room felt still. Zanrye's breaths were shallow. He exhaled heavily after a moment and then shook his head as if he'd heard this for the first time.

"Maybe we'll go the bres-leean forest, Po." Zanrye said, using his nickname for the older boy—one that would stick to him and would become his name to everyone else as well.

"Maybe." Ponawen said to him ominously, hiding his smirk. "But if we do…we'd better be ready. Because Witherfang will always know if we're there." He watched as the child shivered.

"We could kill him." Zanrye said excitedly, breathlessly. "Me and you."

Ponawen just smiled and then rubbed his hand over the boy's hair, ruffling it. Zanrye shook him off and still looked at him expectantly. Always expectant.

"Go to Nishia before she takes out her anger on you." He said loudly, standing. Zanrye slowly followed and Ponawen walked over to the girl himself. She ignored him, already having written some words on papers that had older writing from past lessons on them.

"You need to know elven." She said to Zanrye simply, though her eyes were on Ponawen, full of childish contempt. "If you don't, you're not going to become a man." Ponawen laughed.

"Of course he will." He countered. "Time passes even if he was still speaking baby talk."

"He won't be a real man." Nishia corrected herself. "Or you either."

"I know elven." Ponawen smacked his lips.

"No you don't." Nishia said firmly as Zanrye took place beside her. Ponawen just looked at her. Was he going to argue with a child? No, that was low even for him.

"Alright kid." He rolls his eyes at her and then walks over to check on Mima while Nishia begins coaching Zanrye on scattered words. After he made sure she was not soiled and that the others were occupied, he waited a few minutes. Sure enough, Narvez came through the door. Zanrye looked at the man and smiled, climbing off his seat to rush into his arms. His joyous cries woke Mima, who began to whine in an irritatingly nasally way. Ponawen stood and walked over to the tall, dark man who had picked up Zanrye and was holding him in his arms.

"Not any trouble Ponawen? Not that we expect any." The man said.

"None at all, baba." Ponawen said to him, granting him the father honorific.

"Don't leave Po." Zanrye turned in his step-father's arms to face Ponawen, his eyes big and full of guilt-tripping sweetness. Ponawen sighed heavily.

"I have to go. I made some plans." He said and hurriedly continued, "But I'll be around this weekend to try out that heavy sword yeah?" Zanrye nodded. "And I'll come back next week, long like usual."

This seemed to satisfy the boy who was put down by his father and went back to Nishia. Narvez smiled at Ponawen.

"He looks forward to these sittings—every week." He said, looking at Zanrye settle into a seat and pick up a pen. Ponwen watched as well and then grabbed his pack, ready to set out.

"Yeah, so do I." He said offhandedly. "See you, ba."

* * *

PRESENT

STORM COAST

Zanrye awoke to find himself curled into a ball. A magic fire had been lit near the edge of his tent—contained—though the rest of the tent was less than orderly. His bedroll lay in various pieces scattered about, from blankets to mat. The chamber pot, thankfully empty, was flung to the side as well. Candles were scattered around, no doubt due to his thrashing, and his pen had broken.

He picked himself up from his curled position and stretched out the kinks and pains from his shoulders. His mouth tasted bad and salty and his face felt stiff. He could already picture what it must look like.

He was hungry. Hungry but also too tired to move far. He resigned to starve for the time being. He sighed, crawled toward the bedroll, and began to assemble it back so that he may at least have somewhere comfortable to rest his heavy head. He did not know how long he had been out and knew not—through the thick leather of the tent—what time of day it was. He could have been asleep a year. But honestly, would that make a difference?

He folded a blanket back around the matt with his left hand and then stopped to look at it. _I suppose it does make a difference_ , he thought bitterly. He had the mark of "Andraste" on his hand so that meant his absence would be noted. He prayed to the Creators they did not come to him, for their own sake. He did not know what he would do if he saw them now.

Zanrye dragged himself back over to the crumpled parchment. He looked down at it. A dull pain coursed through him as he took it in and he inhaled deep, feeling his lungs constrict and his dry throat protest. He wasn't ready.

Already, stinging hot tears threatened to start up. He moved back to the half-proper bedroll and pulled back the blankets. He stopped to remove his boots and armor and then settled into the bed, pulling the covers all the way to his chest. Just a few more hours of rest. Just a few…..

* * *

20 YEARS EARLIER

MONTFORT (Orlais area)

"Keep your head down." Ponawen said to the 11 year old Zanrye who arched a brow at the near man of 19.

"They can still see you." He argued. The two were at a checkpoint for clan Levellan's search party. They were still in Orlais, had been for many years now.

"Yeah but I have some authorization. You don't." Ponawen said. "Just stay behind the horses."

Zanrye did as he was told. His friend had recently taken the mark of Adruil upon his face in a red ink that put his hair to shame. But it fit his face so nicely, marking him as the religious hunter, connected with the Way of Three. He had grown taller but still wide as the years passed. Zanrye had not grown much at all but was identifiable as being nearly 13 years.

"Alright, Rye. Time to go." Ponawen came back to the horse after the briefest of moments. Zanrye smiled at his friend and the two climbed back on Po's horse and started in a gallop. Zanrye was in the front and kept his eyes open as the wind gushed past them, bringing tears to him but also elation. They'd gotten away with their crime, he was on a search party mission, and he was flying through the woods.

"Wanna see something cool?" Po's voice asked him loudly over the air whoosing in their ears.

"Yeah!" Zanrye yelled back. Po shifted slightly, snapped the reins, and the horse darted to the left, taking them up over a small rise in the earth. They charged upward and then kept straight before the rise lifted even further. They followed the path diligently, making their way up steeper and steeper rises. Zanrye felt the bittersweet joy of knowing how high they were going and being terrified of how high they were going as well. He gripped the horse and the man tighter, seeing a precipice ahead of them.

"You ready!?" Po asked, his voice telling that he had a wicked grin upon his face. "You're not scared are you!?"

"No!" Zanrye cried back, teeth grit. "Are you?"

In response, all Ponawen did was laugh and then Zanrye saw it—the edge—with nothing but trees and sky and rises beneath them. The ground was very far away….

But too late to think. Because his stomach was in his throat and his lungs made him cry out and there was Po's laughter in his ear and the weightlessness of three heavy bodies come together. They flew, flew over the trees and under the clouds and into the swirling colors.

The thud jarred Zanrye and he felt his butt hit the saddle as though it had been lifted from it. They galloped over another rise and then lifted once more, a smaller jump. They did this leaping until they were once more on the ground and slowed to a trot.

Zanrye was panting. His hands still gripped the horse and his legs were shaking. But he had loved every second of it.

"Didn't piss yourself, did ye?" Ponawen asked him. Zanrye tried to release a fist but it was still holding tight. His muscles were not over the sensation.

"No." Zanrye finally got out. He swallowed air and then breathed more in deep. It smelled good here. Orlais usually smelled very flagrant and sometimes harsh but right here…. It smelled nice.

"Well we're on a mission now so no more fun." Ponawen said to him, rubbing a hand on his shoulder. He pulled their horse over to a marked tree. The older boy slid down and tied the reins to inscribed rope which he bound to the tree. Zanrye let himself slide to the side of the horse and onto the ground, making sure he could stand. Ponawen looked around, taking the pack from the horse as he did so. He slung his bow over his back and his arrow canister. Also from the pack, he pulled out a blunted greatsword—miniature. He handed it to Zanrye who secured it around his own back. It felt heavier than he remembered, after his gravity-defying experience.

The two set out into the woods. It was still bright in the sky. They had made it to the sight in good time despite their having to weave around to stop Zan from being seen.

"It's nice here isn't it?" Ponawen asked the boy, looking around. "Kinda feels like when we were in the woods a few years back…."

"It feels homey." Zanrye said. Po eyed him.

"Does it?" He asked.

"Yes." Zanrye nodded. "It…smells…and looks like home. The color patterns."

"Mythal, help us." Ponawen laughed at him. "Your hearth vision."

"I'm not kidding." Zanrye rolled his eyes at the elder. "It's good here…."

"What makes it similar to home for you?" Ponawen asked. "Or is it not practical?"

"Sort of." Zanrye looked around, eyes scanning. "There's arbor blessing for instance…. Over there. Lots of it. Just like home. And not all in one place. And a lot of royal elfroot. Everywhere." He stopped at one and picked two.

"Good eyes." Ponawen said to him, his eyes pondering. Zanrye shrugged and pocketed them. "Why do you need them?"

"One is for my father—these are his favorite flower." Zanrye explained. "For his shrine. And the other one is for Nishia." Zanrye felt a smile creep onto his face. "She says she does not like flowers but she does. Only the ones with dark colors though. And leafy ones."

"She would like the weirdest ones—and they're not even flowers." Ponawen shook his head. "Always with a log in her back and an ego the size of—"

"An ego the right size for someone who cares and trains and tries as much as she does." Zanrye finished or the older boy, a snide looking entering onto his face. Ponawen sighs.

"Forgot. Don't talk about your girlfriend."

"My friend." Zanrye said testily.

"Who you're bringing a flower too." Ponawen smirked.

"Because she likes them and they're hard to find." Zanrye shot back.

"Aw settle down." Ponawen chuckled. "Don't really think anything like that is between you two; between her and anyone else for that matter."

"She's only mean to you because she thinks you're not really serious." Zanrye said plainly.

"That's because her parents—never could joke, or appreciate the simple. No, no—I'm not saying the big mysteries and truth and all that aren't important…. But they aren't more important than the day-to-day. Things like our jump there or something simpler like the fact that we can safely take shites everyday." He said.

"But Nishia does appreciate the simple." Zanrye insisted. "She just doesn't stay on the simple."

"Alright, defend your girlfriend." Ponawen shrugged. "It's not worth arguing. All I'm saying is that the little things are the things that make up life, Rye. And indulging in them doesn't make you ignorant or lazy or…I dunno, dim."

"She doesn't think you're dim." Zanrye said to his friend, eyeing him knowingly. Ponawen just smirked but Zanrye continued, "She just doesn't think you're a man." A grin appeared on his face and Ponawen closed the distance between them in two strides and locked Zanrye into a headlock, continuing their walking pace as Zanrye struggled.

"Well, she doesn't have to." Ponawen said. "But you…you have to. I'm your elder, kid."

"St—I didn't say it!" Zanrye said irately but not without laughter. He still struggled.

"What is it? You need to know elven to be a man? Alright then Rye, tell me something in elven. Better yet, ask me to let you go because it's hurting you. You'll stay like this the rest of the way unless you can."

"I don't—know all that yet." Zanrye continued to struggle. "lasa dara."

"That sounds only half right." Ponawen kept walking. Zanrye nearly tripped.

"PO!" He yelled angrily and the older boy finally let him out. Zanrye wasted no time in charging at him and Ponawen side-stepped him, laughing. Zanrye launched again and again Po stepped aside but now grabbed Zanrye and hoisted him in the air, turning him upside down. He started to walk but Zanrye squirmed out of his grip and landed with a thud on the ground.

Unharmed, he twisted his legs into Ponawen's and managed to send the man to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, Zanrye pranced out of reach, on his toes, waiting for Ponawen to rise. The man slowly did and gave Zanrye an approving grin.

"Didn't think you'd actually get out." Ponawen admitted.

"Aren't we supposed to be on a search mission?" Zanrye said, relaxing his stance.

"Yeah, yeah." Ponawen said. "It'll turn out fine." He walked back to Zanrye's side and again they started forward. After a short time, Ponawen looked down at the boy again. "So?"

"So?" Zanrye replied.

"What else is out here that's meaningful to you?" Ponawen asked. "And where's my flower?"

"You don't get flowers." Zanrye let a smile come to him. "You don't collect, you barely know how to heal—"

"Oh and Nishia does?" Ponawen grinned. Zanrye gave a conceding bend of the head and Ponawen looked out into the forest.

"You want a story?" He asked. Zanrye looked at him and then back at the road ahead.

"Yeah." He said.

"Alright let's do…one about a home journey. The dwarf Rodrick's quest for a lightning rune…."

* * *

PRESENT

STORM COAST

Zanrye donned his armor and got on his horse, which has been put in the makeshift stable with feed—thankfully, as he would have been starving for the entire time Zanrye was out. Zanrye headed up the hill, the rain stopping for now but was sure to return soon. The sky was pale and only a peek of sun colored the brown-green-grey that was the ground.

Zanrye felt numb. His horse moved with leisure over the ridge near the camp. He remembered how they had killed lone demons that had come through the veil right here. It was very simple then. Kill the demons, recruit the Bull, find out more about whoever this Corypheus character was.

But now things were not so easy. How long had he been fucking around in the tent: waking up then sleeping then waking up again. How long had it been since he'd eaten? His knee was sore. He knew it was bruised, badly. He knew that he should probably report in. He hadn't seen the scout, thankfully, since he had snapped at him. He was grateful for the solitude but it also only served to disorient him.

He saw a fennec. He suddenly remembered how hungry he was. He knew there would be oats and rice back at camp. Did they have vegetables? But no meat no doubt.

His tired muscles moved slowly and his horse drew nearer to his destination. The brown animal nearly blended with his environment. He would have been defying death had it not been for Zanrye's predatory eye. The animal jumped forward, seeking after some insect that had caught its eye. Zanrye measured the distance and then gripped the reigns tighter in his hands. Then he gave a sharp jerk and his horse took off, bolting in the direction of the animal. The fennec sensed them yards away. But it was too late for him. The hooves came crashing down over him, successfully pummeling and injuring him. Zanrye slid from the horse and landed on his legs, feeling the impact reverberate through his muscles. He brought out his sword and brought it down on the struggling creature without a second warning. Commotion followed as birds and creatures and winds reacted to the death. Zanrye took a moment to adjust his grip on his sword and roll his shoulders before resheathing it.

He took his bounty into the horse sack. But rather than return to camp, he kept on forward. The deathly grey ground smoothed out every so often. Zanrye let his horse take on a leisurely pace and looked out into the sky. He saw the clouds close, felt the softest of touches of moisture on his nose. The rain was returning. It would start as a mist and end as an intense battering of everything on the land and in the sea.

Still, Zanrye pressed forward, walking deeper into the forests. He touched a tree they passed, watching as birds sought out shelter. The noise was like a grey static. The life here was dimmed until the rains, Zanrye surmised. As the pattering became more and more intense, he could sense the change. The grass stretched towards the heavens and the stone formed a fountain—or a sloped river. Insects died and scurried in the horse's wake.

The horse itself gave a warning whinny. It could sense the storm as well. Zanrye hushed it, patting its mane tenderly. He kept his hand there, supplying the comfort for his beast who kept on course. His skull was cold, a chill traveling all the way down to his neck, the first stop on its travel to his spine. But Zanrye endured it, pushing forward. He needed to be in the rain, in the forest. He needed the earthly, lively forest. He needed to see the life.

He needed to experience the life.

* * *

16 YEARS EARLIER

CHURNEAU (Orlais area)

It was the dead of night and the wagon was parked a good fifty or so miles from the city. It was still but as one got deeper into the forest, near the miniature waterfalls, there was whimpering. Crying and whimpering. Shaky, shallow breaths.

Zarye was painted; purple streaks covered his naked body. He wore wrapped fabric to cover his third leg and ass, the same fabric coming to wrap once around his shoulders. This was a technique they had used for many years now, in varying degrees. He looked over to Nishia, naked save for sewn arbor blessing linked together to cover her middle: from her breasts to her flower. Her sides, back, legs, and arms were all exposed. Her paint was white, contrasting her dark skin. She looked beautiful. And deadly.

"Take out the next." Ponawen said in a voice that sent excited shivers through the 5 elves around him, all naked and painted. Ponawen himself wore red paint, to match his fiery face and hair. He was almost stark-naked save for vines wrapped around his crotch, covering it. This call evoked groans and tears from the shems, roped and some gagged, in the wagon.

Zanrye felt the lust come to him. Nishia moved to the wagon beside him. Kaynala was there as well. As was Lana. Five of them, partners in this crime, connected intimately in their quest for vengeance. There was no remorse nor shame.

The man was dragged out of the wagon, with shem hands trying to clutch at him and pull him back into "safety." His mouth quivered though his eyes were cold and stoic. He seemed to have tried to steel his resolve in the waiting time. Zanrye and Nishia grabbed both of his bound arms. He was more or less unharmed. That was coming. He was only frightened. _Good_.

"Aedan!" Someone cried from inside. Lana stomped and the earth beneath the wagon impacted the bottom, earning squeals of fright from within, and stopping nay further cries for their lost man.

"You're animals." The man muttered, hate in his eyes. Zanrye eyed Ponawen who stood before the man. They were in a wide clearing with a tall tree behind the stoned center—this tree held the headless, castrated, horrifically abused bodies of the other victims. The bodies were hung upside down by their legs. On the large middle stone before the tree was a carved, wood monument. The man was forced onto his knees before it, shaking ever so slightly.

"Will you beg Mythal for your life, shem?" Ponawen grinned. His eyes glinted with anticipation. He looked down at the man.

"I won't pray to your demons, knife ear." The man said. The handle of Nishia's dagger impacted his head and he cried out in surprise then stifled it, grunting the rest.

"You will show respect, shemlen." Nishia said, her eyes dark.

"You all are nothing." The man said to the ground. "You and your false Gods."

Ponawen waited half a second. Then his movements were so swift, all that was seen was his arm rising after his blade went through the shem's forehead.

The first blood. Zanrye tensed and inhaled, blood getting hot. The man hissed out a curse and then got his silence back. He was hiding his brokenness. They would expose it.

"We'll give your body over to mythal." Kaynala said from atop the tree where she rested. Her bow and arrow were lazily across her stomach, not even taught. She too looked fearsome. Her gaze was hungry.

The man refused to speak. Ponawen laughed. He took a few steps back. He looked over to where Lana stood. Blood covered her bosom and splattered on her chin. Her eyes sparkled. Ponawen turned back and gazed at Zanrye.

"He isn't vocal enough for you. Who would take joy from one so stone-like?" He asked in a scripted voice. He grinned at Nishia, "Would you like to make him scream?"

Nishia didn't answer. Instead, her blade righted itself in her hand and, without hesitation, she plunged it into the man's thigh. He clenched his fists tighter than would be possible in normal circumstances in his attempts to not scream. She walked with grace to his side and swiped her dagger daintily through his left side, tearing his shirt as she did and making a shallow wound. He breathed heavy. She walked to his front and slashed the back of his neck—shallow once more. The man let a short whimper out but no more. His anger was built surely. But what could he do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Kaynala began to sing, low and soft, enthralled in what was happening. Nishia cut the rest of the man's shirt off through a tear to the back of it. His back was exposed. Her eyes met Zanrye's and his ears felt hot. He wanted her to go deeper, to hurt him more, to make him scream. _Do it_ , he urged, begged with his eyes.

"AHHHH" The man's scream startled even Zanrye as Nishia plunged the knife into his lower back with a sickeningly dry popping sound as she cleanly cut through flesh and skin. The man was shaking now. He tried to stifle his screams with no success. Nishia took out her dagger and then began to speak in fluent elven, moving to viciously slash his thighs and ass. The man was crying now, his tears coming faster with each strike. Ponawen's smile was stuck on his face. He was breathing heavy.

"Please…" The man said in the smallest voice. With that, Ponawen roared with laughter and leaned against the carving. Nishia did not smile but she did have a small smirk. Her foot pushed him from all-fours onto his side, where he cringed and tried to protect his tummy that she proceeded to kick twice. Each time, he seemed to lose air and choke. Zanrye's hands were tight as fists.

"Well done…" Ponawen said softly to Nishia. She eyed him and Zanrye could've sworn he saw her wink.

"Save his tongue." Lana said suddenly, as a reminder to them. As she walked closer, the dead in the trees began to swing and the earth began to part as a circle around the man—as if creating a dirt-altar. Sacrifice.

"No…no," The man was becoming delirious. Zanrye clenched his mouth. He wanted more blood. _Don't kill him quick Shia_ , he begged in his mind.

"I want some more music." Ponawen said to Nishia. She eyed him for a second too long and then stepped past the shem and up to Ponawen. She took the blood that had splattered onto her hand and wrist and put it to his face, staining him. Ponawen did not back down and Nishia smiled finally, her hand caressing.

"The girl he killed…she was pregnant." Nishia said, her smile edged with bitter wickedness. Ponawen understood her and then looked down at the man who was one of the many they had picked up that day—unsuspecting but all who either owned servants, were too close to the aravel, or happened to be witnesses. They had come a long way from being picky with their victims. A shem was a shem.

"Let's see how much we can fill him up." Ponawen agreed, the anticipation written all over his face. Nishia turned back to Zanrye and offered out her hand to him. He touched it and raised it to his lips, licking the blood. It was foul to him, as foul as the shem on the ground.

"Leave the final stroke." She said to him.

That was his permission. His turn again. He nodded, kissed her hand, and then unsheathed his greatsword. He came to stand above the shem with Ponawen next to him. The man shook and muttered to himself. Zanrye heard a few words.

"Your false Gods won't save you." He said to the man. "You had better beg mythal for mercy."

"Please…we haven't done anything to you…." The man said slowly.

Ponawen didn't even wait to hear. He kicked the shem onto his back and took a dagger from Nishia. Kaynala craned her neck to see and Lana brought more ground quakes to those in the wagon. In an instant, Ponawen plunged the dagger as far into the man's ass as he could go on the first try.

The scream was ear-splitting.

And satisfying.

"AHHHHHHH" Zanrye brought down his first stroke, cutting open the man's chest as Ponawen went for another, deeper thrust. The man tried to fight them but Nishia's foot held his head to the floor. Blood hit Zanrye's face. He blinked it out of his eyes and stomped on the man's groping arm, bringing his sword down to cut through nearly a third of the wrist.

"NOOAAAAAOOA!" The screams never ceased now. More blood stained his legs. Nishia's thighs were around the man's face, her blade carving the curse of the dread wolf into the man's chest.

Zanrye's breathing was heavy. His blood was warm and he lusted. He lusted hard. He wanted pools of blood. Their cries…their jeers…the ones from those shems so long ago came to his ears in place of the man's screams and he swung ferociously, severing the man's arm from his body. The air became rancid as the man pissed and shit—but not for long as Ponawen took hold of his cock and sawed through it. Blood poured from that wound, having nowhere to go.

Piss still came though, this time from Kaynala, who had come down from the tree. She pissed on his cuts and bruises, pulling her wraps out of the way. It hit the man's face and surely stung.

Nishia moved and held the man's head firmly between her thighs as Kaynala lowered and grasped his tongue, hacking it clean with just four saws of her blade. Ponawen threw the man's bloodied member into the nearby fire and Kaynala took the tongue to the awaiting Lana.

The elven came quick from Nishia's lips before her blade reached his throat. Zanrye saw it before he registered it and then blood, hot and tainted, was spraying her face and his and Ponawen's hands. The man gurgled and floundered and then he lay very, very still…

After a time, Ponawen stood, wiping the dagger clean and handing it back to Nishia. He helped Zanrye to his feet as well, body wet with blood. Nishia had already arisen. Ponawen moved so that Zanrye could heave his mighty greatsword and decapitate the man where he stood. Nishia and Kaynala moved the body to the tree to hoist it and dangle it there—another victim. The head was put into the fire. Ponawen looked at the ground and laughed.

"Fucker shit all over the place." He chortled and then took position by the statue. "Take out the next one."

* * *

They headed home with their frozen shem body parts and Lana able to bury all traces beneath the dirt. They washed in the river together and adorned their regular clothing. The wagon was hidden in the cave where they kept it until they felt it time to go on another murder spree. This had been their 12th one of this caliber. It beat the scare-tactics they used to do as kids.

Once in camp, Lana retired immediately and then Kaynala headed back to her boyfriend's home. That left the three of them. Zanrye and Nishia walked close together, with Zanrye feeling floaty and light-headed after the events. They always left him feeling dizzy. Nishia was his rock. Ponawen stood on her other side and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Tired?" Nishia asked him sarcastically, shrugging it off. He put it back.

"No. Thinking…you two want us to all get something to eat back in camp—have dinner." He asked. "We never have dinner before these…."

"Because we don't want vomit." Nishia said, her eyebrow up.

"I know, I know." Ponawen waved her off. "But I mean…I'd like for us all to have dinner tonight…just…sit."

"Feeling tired then." Nishia concluded.

"No." Ponawen said, irate. Then he paused and said more slowly, "I don't want to be alone tonight…is all."

Zanrye smiled warmly at the man and wrapped his arm around Nishia's back to touch Ponawen's hand which the older man took.

"All you have to do is ask." Nishia said bluntly but she still slipped her arm around Ponawen's waist. They all walked to Ponawen's home—which he had to himself.

"I only have meat basically." Ponawen warned them. "And bread. If you want real grains, tough luck."

"The lavish life of a bachelor." Nishia teased. Ponawen laughed good-naturedly and attempted to push her but she dodged and pushed him. They both laughed and Zanrye just stood before the door, waiting.

"You're able to get in." Ponawen said. "It isn't locked tight and I had keeper add you to the inclusions for the spell."

"And me?" Nishia demanded. Ponawen laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, a gesture she didn't brush off this time, and steering her to the door.

"Of course you too." Ponawen said. "Now will I have access to your home is the question."

"I wouldn't bar you," Nishia rolled her eyes. "I swear, you make me sound like an evil friend."

"You do have a certain…meanness about you." Ponawen started teasingly, which made Nishia shrug out of his grip again in response and follow Zanrye inside. When they had made plates and were sitting around the small fire, Zanrye finally spoke.

"Thanks Po." He said to the man. "For this…I think…I needed this too." Nishia rubbed his hair.

"I have intuition. Not much but some." Ponawen smiled at him with tender eyes. Nishia gave a small smile of her own. Ponawen exhaled and then spoke. "You're like family to me, guys. And yes, this seems like it's coming from nowhere but it aint. You all are family I didn't have—with it just being me and my mum." He shoved meat into his mouth. "That's all I wanted to say."

"We love you too." Nishia said gently but bluntly, not hedging around the bush.

"Love to go around." Zanrye said directly to Po, looking over at him fondly. Ponawen pretended to blush and then looked into the fire.

"I'll try to live up to that love. It's a lot of pressure." Ponawen concluded, grin returning. "But I guess I'll be you two's knight."

"Knight of no land." Zanrye rolled his eyes. "Self-proclaimed knight."

"We each defend each other. No one person is the sole knight." Nishia said to them both. Zanrye kept her gaze and felt warmed by it. She had defended him many times before…. "As men and women…as friends."

"Yes, yes." Ponawen gave a flamboyant yawn. "Now kids…I'm tired…who wants a story?"

"Oh please." Nishia rolled her eyes. Zanrye felt his neck get hot.

"I like them." He admitted. "Still."

"They're for children." Nishia said, not helping but to smile at his juvenile secret.

"Which you two are." Ponawen reminded. "Now…what would you like? The warrior maiden who fell in love and became a homewife? The woman who gave up ruling the country to get married?" He was jabbing at Nishia who eyed him and then her own grin came.

"Either." She said somewhat sweetly. "But do tell them in perfect, fluent elven…."

* * *

PRESENT

Zanrye stopped his jackknife crunches when he hit one hundred. He got to his feet, feeling the telltale signs of rain again. He was shirtless and had only his smallclothes bottoms on but quickly retrieved his pants, his muscles still wet but the wind drying them. He would bathe later. He wiped his short bangs from sticking to his forehead and then put his horse back into the protection of the makeshift stable with a can of feed. Then he was once again laid out in the tent, his eyes on the ceiling. He had started to prepare a ram he'd caught today in the fire that never went out. He had long since surmised that it was Solas's work and felt gratitude he'd never felt toward the elf before arise. Now, he used it frequently, realizing its capabilities. Today was rice and carrots and ram. It was a pretty good meal all things considered. He fed most of the vegetables he had to the horse so his portion was a bit small. But the meat would no doubt make up for that.

The note lay on the floor still but it was open now, smoothed out. Zanrye had read it two days ago. And then he had swung his sword into a nearby tree as many times as he could manage, nearly cleaving through a whole third of its wide, thick trunk. Then he had cried himself to sleep. Today, and yesterday, he worked nonstop. He had already trekked previously but now he worked, ate at least twice a day. He did not think about the letter. It read:

 _Dear Herald,_

 _I wish to speak with you. My contacts have received word that Lana was found being harbored by a family a well outside of the area of the conclave explosion miraculously. She was not harmed but it is clear to us that Ponawen has suffered fatal injuries._

 _After much coaxing, Lana revealed the location of his body to us and they are being brought to Haven as soon as it is possible. I would have you be here when she arrives and would like to discuss a course of action regarding Ponawen, Lana, how to address your clan, and any special ceremonies you would like to organize for your friends._

 _Write or Return,_

 _Josephine_

Zanrye would not look at it again. He still kept it though. It was always there on the other side of the tent. He sat back, pulling his tunic into his lap and unfolding it as he waited for his meat to be done. The skin was left outside, thrown haphazardly out of the way of the riding path but in the way of the northeastern walking path. That was why Zanrye heard a horse give a deep, low whinny of panic even over the rising storm. This was a surprise. He had been alone for days. All the raiders and bandits should be dead on this side…or were they? He arched his brow, hand reaching for his greatsword, anticipating trouble. The horse continued to clop and he heard voices. His armor was still at the entrance. Would he be able to get it before—

The tent was opened and he recognized Josephine in a second after she looked up. She wore a cloak over her clothing, hood up but being pulled down in seconds as she came in. She was wet though only lightly so. The cloak had absorbed most of the rain.

Zanrye did not feel angry. But he didn't feel good about her being here. His jaw clenched as his eyes glowered, hand moving away from his greatsword but only just. In his movements, he realized another sobering fact—he was shirtless. In front of her—with one knee and his tunic being all to cover him from her gaze, a gaze which fell on his chest for as quick as one could manage when encountering the unexpected.

"Oh—I," Josephine stuttered and shame came to him. Zanrye was not able to see any change in the color of Josephine's already flushed face but he felt the heat on the back of his own neck. Josephine, flustered, tried to find a proper stance. He looked away and undid the rest of the tunic, moving it away from his body only long enough to shift it to go over his head, to then be pulled down to cover his chest. He was pretty fit, abs definitely defined. He was not insecure. It was not the nakedness but that his nakedness was being viewed by someone not of his clan, nor an elf.

 _Nor a nobody_ , his mind echoed to him, _a beautiful shem with her eyes on your naked body_. Zanrye did not speak on this. But when he heard Josephine clear her throat multiple times, muttering apologies and averting her eyes pointedly as he adorned his tunic, Zanrye felt heat closer to his chest than his neck—deep within his breast. This came accompanied by the prickles in his ears.

"Forgive me," She spoke after a time, stuttering. Zanrye felt his irritation battling his attraction to the sounds of her fumbling over words. Irritation won. He inhaled and shoved his tunic in his pants, belting it.

"Ambassador." He said to her, his tone hollow.

"Herald…" she began and Zanrye stood now, walking over to the crate where the necessities were—dishes, towels, the water filter. She did not speak for a time and then Zanrye heard her say his name so softly, the heat came back.

"Zanrye," She spoke in a hushed voice. Zanrye did not turn around but did not move either. Her tone also brought pain—coursing through his body. He knew this pain, the one he tried to work away and sleep away. Her voice formed around the note in his mind and he could almost hear her speaking the words she had written. Po…. He felt it become hard to breathe again and struggled to keep a calm stance his eyes smarting.

"I'm terribly sorry, Zanrye." He heard her say, this time right next to him—not too close but far enough to be respective of their positions. Zanrye didn't need positions. He didn't need any of that. He needed a time turner.

The tears came without him wanting them to. It was not quite a downpour so much as it was a silent stream. Her hand came to touch his and he jerked it away. His fury spiked at her—for being a filthy shem and being the one to tell him that Ponawen was dead, for bothering him here when all he wanted to do was be alone and not face the truth.

"Herald…turn around." Josephine said in a half-sure voice. Zanrye did not obey, his body shaking from his effort to still the tears and squash his anguish.

"Zanrye…forgive me…but you must stop this." Josephine walked around to face him, her own eyes resolute as they looked into his broken ones. He glared at her. She took a breath and then her eyes narrowed with sorrow. "Zan, you…I cannot imagine the loss that you've suffered…no one should have to…. But if I know anything, it is that our friends and families would not want us to die with them—physically or mentally." She looked away for a moment and then back, her concern and firmness clear. "The rift still stands and threatens us all. The living need you now. Not only the world as a faceless entity but others who are not out there but here: Lana…she lives. Your keeper, your clan…they all live. The Inquisition, we all live. Me, Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen…. And so do you."

Zanrye heard her words and knew she was right. He had known she was right. But it was still so hard…so hard….

"Come out of this." Josephine said finally. "Come back to where your friend's memory may be honored, avenged…. You owe that to him…and you want that for him."

Zanrye heard the pounding again but it was different. She was right, he knew it. She was right. He just…couldn't….

"Do not be afraid." She said softer.

Zanrye broke. His head hung low and he let the tears come freer now. He turned away and let his legs lower him to the ground, into a sprawling sitting position. She was so right. What happened had happened and this was the truth. It couldn't be avoided. Po shouldn't be avoided….

Zanrye felt her hand on his back but he didn't stop her from touching him, the warmth bringing a calming aura with it. He let himself cry it out, inhaling loud and noisy as he did so. Josephine's hand tentatively moved over his shoulders and around his arms as she engulfed him into a hug. She was warm and nurturing. Steady. And Zanrye felt so broken….

"You will make it through this." She said softly into his back. Zanrye gave a feeble nod and his sobs relented to his breathing. He raised a hand and gripped her forearm that was wrapped around his chest. He held onto it to for stability. She was right….

She was right.

* * *

HAVEN

He was back at Haven with Cassandra at his side. They were sitting on the ledge, overlooking the party before them. It was a cool night but the fires crackling all over made it feel warmer. The rift no longer stood blaring in the sky. He had come home and closed it. And then held a "wake" for Po.

"Thank you for coming with her to get me." Zanrye said to his friend.

"I was informed of the situation and wouldn't let you kill yourself out there." Cassandra said simply. "You do not need to thank me. You needed someone…and Josie knew what was going on and I…I thought it was better I take her than some scout."

"I'm glad you came." Zanrye said conclusively, smiling gratefully at her. His lips were touched with melancholy sadness. He looked onto the commotion and spotted Lana sitting by a fire, talking with Solas—the stubborn, fade-headed elf who had made the fire that pretty much kept Zanrye alive when he was in his voluntary exile. He could think of no hands better for his friend. She was fragile now. The look in her eyes was mistrustful and she and Zanrye had exchanged sorrows and hellos. Now, she looked to Solas for comfort and protection, not trusting the shems around them, save for the mages.

"I still can't believe they did that for Lana." Zanrye said, shaking his head.

"Well…they were not the first humans to take in elven apostates seeking refuge." Cassandra said, a smile on her face. Zanrye had to return it. Yet these shems were apostates themselves. Did that count?

"May I join you two?" Josephine asked. She stood farther back, glancing at the two of them. She was wearing a cape and blueish garb. Her hair was done up as usual. Zanrye felt himself get shy. He nodded and she took a seat on his other side.

"Your altar for him is beautiful." She remarked to Zanrye kindly. "And your words lifted every heart in the room when you spoke…. He will be remembered…and you."

"I only wish Nishia had been here for it." Zanrye said. "She would have wanted to pay her respects to him."

"She was with him in spirit." Josephine surmised. "And she may get the chance when he reaches your clan. Before he is buried, they may some words as well."

"She would have wanted the two of us to do it together." Zanrye explained.

"I understand. I suppose we can only be grateful for what we get in these trying times." Josephine concluded, words wise and eyes sad.

"Yeah." Zanrye agreed. He looked back at the altar which was burning his friend's favored type of wine, black lotus, and a wooden soldier, tokens of remembrance. His friend himself was in transit to his clan as they spoke. He was honored but not buried. He should be buried in the woods—as a true hunter dedicated to the ways of three. He spoke out the words he had at the funeral once more, " _Mythal'enaste. Ar lath ma…ma'falon. Uth_." He stops there and then looks to the women beside him and then says nothing. This was all he could do. He would avenge Po and get his body to his clan and he would fight whatever this demon who had caused the rift in the sky was. Even if it killed him.

Bells began to chime in the distance. Zanrye frowned and Cassandra did as well. They both stood instantly, Zanrye absent-mindedly sticking his hand out for Josephine to take as she stood. The music was stopping. It was louder now, the bells. He heard flurry. This was….

"What the—we must get to the gates!" Cassandra drew her sword. Zanrye followed, his eyes darting left and right. Everything was happening very, very quickly. Josephine was right behind him. They made it there and Cassandra was talking and Cullen explained.

"Massive force." He said. "Bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked.

"None." Cullen responded darkly.

"None?" She asked incredulously. There was banging at the door. Zanrye frowned, drawing his greatsword at the sound. His blood was beginning to stir. This couldn't be happening….

"I can't come in unless you open." The voice said. His team all looked at him and then Zanrye moved forward and opened the doors to a small, pale man with a large, wide-brimmed hat outside. His voice was mystical.

"I'm Cole." He said dreamily. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."

"What is this? What's going on?" Zanrye asked impatiently.

"The Templars come to kill you." Cole said.

"Templars!?" Cullen thundered. "Is this the order's response to our talks with the mages!? Attacking blindly!?"

"The red Templars went to the elder one. You know him?" Cole asked. "He knows you. You took his mages." The man pointed to a cliff and out of billowing smoke came a gruesome, ghastly figure. Zanrye made him out with great difficulty. But what he saw still looked more monster than man.

"He's very angry you took his mages." Cole said softly.

"Cullen, give me a plan!" Zanrye yelled. "Anything!"

"Haven is no fortress." He said. "If we are to survive, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force." He drew his sword and rallied before the men. "Mages! You—you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson! He will not make it easy!" He turned to face the incoming attackers. "Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

Zanrye walked with one of the incoming crowds. He need to get to the catapults. This was it. This was the time where he faced this mystery force—whatever it was. He prayed to _mythal_ , _Andruil_ , _Sylaise_ , and all the other Creators for safety and victory.

"For Ponawen." He said softly, looking into the distance. "…For the Inquisition."


	6. Choices In The Valley of Falon'Din

RUINS OF HAVEN

Zanrye's limbs shook violently as he tried to adjust. It was too cold to even think, let alone stand. Around him was rubble. His head pounded.

It had been Corypheus. The elder one was called Corypheus and his mission…his mission was to kill them all. His mission was to get to the heavens? His mission was…Zanrye's…hand…?

Still too cold. But Zanrye was thinking now. His back hurt. He tried to remember more. There had been a dragon. And there was an avalanche. He had caused it. The elder one…. What had he said? "I have seen the throne of the Gods. And it was empty!"

Zanrye opened his eyes slowly now. His back pained him. He remembered. He had been thrown. Flung around like a rag doll. By that monster….

Zanrye was trembling again. He swallowed hard. He was afraid of what he saw when he looked at Corypheus. He was afraid and wanted nothing more than to kill him—to make him go away.

He was so tired. He knew he should get up. He tried to will himself to his feet. But he would not be moved and he knew it. Not yet. Not even anger could override the tired. He was tired of it all: tired of the entire fucking thing. He was tired of things going from shitty to worse. Haven was gone. It was destroyed.

It was over.

* * *

HOURS EARLIER

He was beyond furious. Zanrye's team was gone. And out of the fire emerged the Elder One—covered from head to toe in red lyrium. The dragon at his side seemed unnecessary. Zanrye could tell just be looking at him that he had enough power to take him out if he wanted. And it spoke with a sound that seemed to echo a thousand ghost's voices.

"Whatever you are, I'm not afraid." Zanrye lied, voice surprisingly steady.

"Words mortals often have hurled at the darkness." The voice said, seeming to slip into Zanrye's subconscious so far that he had to will himself with all he had not to shiver. "Once they were mine…. They were always lies."

His words dripped with truth that Zanrye knew was unavoidable. His hate and his fear helped him remain firm.

"You…I won't yield to you, beast." Zanrye glared.

"You will always resist." The demon, the will that was Corypheus, said, producing an orb from his cloak. "It matters not. I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now."

And Zanrye was shaking hard, his arm trembling and the buzzing from the mark, bordering on painful again. He knew his eyes were wide and fearful before he looked back up at Corypheus.

"It is your fault "herald."" He spoke. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And instead of dying, you stole its purpose." Zanrye's body was not his own, bending to the will of Corypheus. He tried to grab his arm with no effect. "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts…I crafted…to assault the very heavens."

The pain was excruciating and Zanrye cried out shortly before biting his teeth together to stop himself. He fell to the ground, mark glowing brilliantly red and green. He tried to still its shaking, to still his pain, but to no avail.

He was scooped up by one aching, throbbing, shaking arm, face to face with what looked like a demon. Corypheus was angry—beyond it. And that anger echoed through Zanrye until his body shook with his arm.

"I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own;" it said, "to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world." He brought him closer. "Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods. And it was empty!"

And just like that, Zanrye was flying and impacted the trebuchet with a sickening thud, the hit reverberating through his skull and sending him reeling for a moment. He could barely hear the demon that was Corypheus until it was nearly on him.

"…begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and God—it requires." He finished. Zanrye did not answer, trying to recollect himself. He had to get away. He was going to die right here. He had to find a way to save himself. He tried to convince himself—he wasn't a demon, only a man. Only a Tevinter man. Only a man turned creature...made of red lyrium and magic and terrors from the fade—

"…I will not suffer even an unknown rival…." He was talking and Zanrye was thinking. He already knew the words before they came out of his mouth.

"You must die." Corypheus concluded.

But Zanrye had already seen what he needed to, beyond Haven to the snowy banks. He looked left to the trebuchet firing lever. It would likely cause all hell to break loose. And it was his only option. He had to survive. And nothing…could stop him…or should.

"Not today…" Zanrye said slowly, hate in each word, lunging to the lever, "you filthy fucking shem!"

And with that, he threw his weight into the kick that sent the boulder slamming into the hills.

And then Zanrye ran. He ran for his life, from the terror and the impending doom.

Tears stung in his eyes.

* * *

PRESENT

Zanrye did not want to wake up. But he heard his name. His eyes opened, his body more numb than he had last remembered. He groaned as he tried to roll over. His fingers felt like a thousand needles were going through them and his mark glowed brightly. _Shit_. He was still in the same place he was when he fell back asleep last time.

And then there it was again. Zanrye blinked as he heard his name another time, clamping his eyes shut and then opening them to snow. And…stairs?

He forced himself to sit up and then saw it. An exit. He must be in the chantry…or underneath it. Or somewhere where stairs were leading him out. That voice…was so familiar. He couldn't quite place it but stood anyway, ignoring how his legs screamed in protest. He walked slowly, through what seemed to be a cave. He followed it into an enormous chamber hall, his mind trying to process the situation and bring him clarity. The Tevinter was Corypheus who was the Elder One. And the Elder One had made the orb…to breach the heavens…and Zanrye had interrupted this ritual somehow. And now the mark was spoiled, on his hand. And Corypheus….

Zanrye almost laughed. He began to walk faster as he realized they had the more favorable position. Corypheus had said he would find another way…he didn't already have one. But they had the mark. If they could use it to undo everything of Corypheus's and against Corypheus himself…. _Thank the Creators I enlisted the mages_ , Zanrye thought.

And as soon as he did, his mark buzzed. Like it used to…but more power surged through Zanrye than ever before. He knew demons were near. He had no weapons though….

But he could not ponder because they had come to him. In a second, two wraiths were at his face with another in towe. Zanrye nearly cursed and thought to run when his hand glowed bright and energy discharged from it. He stumbled back to see a force surrounding the wraiths and pulling them into a rift, killing them in seconds.

"Creators…" Zanrye said, eyes wide as he looked at his mark. He could generate energy… and make rifts. He steadied himself uncertainly as he crept forward, not knowing how to reproduce the effect just yet. But he didn't need to as no more appeared and he was faced with snow. The storm was raging but it was the only way forward. Zanrye weighed his options but knew he wouldn't survive the knight in the cold. He had to find someone, to find the Inquisition. And the more time he wasted, the farther apart they were getting.

"Sylaise, guide me." He prayed quietly, arm still buzzing and back still aching. And he set out into the storm.

* * *

PRESENT

He had found what appeared to be an abandoned fire pit before long. It had to be the Inquisition's. Who else would have taken this path at this time? He at least hoped it was. He hadn't expected to find clues so soon, however. He reasoned that he must either be the luckiest man in the world or truly blessed by the Creators. He had seen this stopping place in the snow, like beacon but without light strangely. He had no sooner gotten in and began to contemplate which direction they may have gone when the voice was suddenly back, clearer than it had been before. And he knew whose it was.

"Solas?" He asked quizzically.

"Aneth ara, da'len." Solas said to him, sitting on a log nearby. He was wearing the long tunic he wore usually when not in the field. Zanrye could only eye him, bewilderment plain on his face.

"What are you doing here Solas?" He asked. "How did you…." He paused. "This…." Suddenly, the mistrustful nature that Nishia and he shared came back and he backed away, standing and putting his hand to his sword that wasn't there. "You won't trick me…demon." He instead balled his rift hand, focusing.

"Rest easy, I'm no demon." Solas said to him.

"Of course." Zanrye said bluntly, with disbelief.

"Zanrye, I have been guiding you to the checkpoints that Inquisition reached." Solas said to him smoothly. "How do you think you awoke from your sleep in the rubble of Haven in the first place? I can mentally enter the fade willingly, remember."

"And you're trying to say that's where I am?" Zanrye glared at him.

"You have dozed off on the very log you've stood up from. And now knowing that, you can bring yourself back to when you wish." Solas said slowly. "But I only have come to tell you that you are close. I have helped all I can."

"And how did you find me…"Solas"?" Zanrye asked scathingly, his suspiciousness palpable.

"You reached out to me…shining in the fade as I wandered by the wreckage looking for you—thinking you were dead." Solas informed him. He face was without smile but his voice was kind.

Before Zanrye could process that, he felt the cold again—more closely touching him and his very being. He opened his eyes to find that he was indeed on a stump by the coal and wood makeshift pit. He had dozed off….

He almost felt dizzy as he stood and then looked forward into the whiteness that blanketed the earth, suppressing everything. Everything but him.

* * *

PRESENT

Standing on creaky legs, Zanrye set out forward, searching for his team. The white bit at his face and ears, his head quivering as he was buffeted. He could not see anything now. He could not have walked more than 20 minutes from the fire pit and already the difference was in effect. The white was all around him.

His hands were becoming numb. He could not see his breath for the darkness. And Zanrye felt very, very alone. Very blind and cut off from the world.

Was it real? Solas, in the wilderness? Had he even seen the checkpoint marking that the inquisition had been past that area? Or was he just walking to nothing? Maybe. But not for nothing. There was still the matter of the world, Ponawen, his clan, the inquisition….

He knew they had the upper hand—somewhat. But he didn't know if he could make it back. He was getting colder by the minute. And he very well might die.

Knowing it…speaking it, even in his mind, made him want to cry. And cry because of regret… and fear…and failure. He didn't want this to be the end. Immature responses of "I wasn't supposed to be here," "I should have never gone to the conclave," and "died for these shems" all ran through his mind—some thoughts stronger than others. But all were feelings. Ever since that day, he had only had suffering…left and right. And now the demon had shown himself and Zanrye wanted nothing more than to throw him into the abyss cut in two.

The cold was in his boots now. As well as in his hair, soaking him. Zanrye could even feel the tears slowly forming on his face slow and sting as the weather tried to turn them into ice.

* * *

12 YEARS EARLIER

PERIVANTIUM (TEVINTER)

He had not eaten for two days prior. Such was the way of things. Nor did he use scented soaps or drink anything but water that had been purified by Keeper.

He was ready. He had been ready for months now.

Before the entire clan, with the other initiates, he stepped forward. They wore nothing but simple tunics and plain pants. Nothing restrictive. Nothing fancy Nothing belted or zip-able or too tight.

He was 19 years old. A boy with one adoptive parent left to his name and a legacy of bloodshed behind him. But that was not the only one. There was a legacy of hope and faith and life. Life had always been at the forefront even in the midst of all the death that had followed him.

He was left in the cave to meditate with the others, bodies oiled with the blessed pore-opening ointments. He was called. And he went.

He stepped into the evening sun and hanging leaves of the surrounding trees. He bowed to Keeper and he stepped up to the soft stool made of bark and covered in earth. He knew who was in the onlooking group but kept his eyes to the Keeper or the heavens. He sat.

"Zanrye of the clan Lavellan." Keeper spoke out, her old voice sounding powerful and vibrant. Yet nothing less than serious. "Have you cleansed your soul and body to the Creator's standards?"

"Yes Keeper." Zanrye said. He was prepared for these questions. He had never seen a ceremony, as only adults were allowed to view it, but he knew what he had done the past few days and what it was leading up to.

"Have you opened your mind to the will of the Creators and emptied yourself of the burdens of the elvhen mortals?"

"Yes Keeper." Zanrye repeated, his eyes never wavering, his skin buzzing. The wind and the air and the flame behind her on the altar filling his nose with scents he would forever associate with destiny and community.

"You have been judged and have earned the privilege to wear the vallaslin." Keeper told him. "Your trials and journey are not yet finished yet you may now continue them and push on with the honor of the God of your choosing." She paused ceremoniously. "Always keep it in mind that your vallaslin will mark you not only as a man, but as a member of clan Lavellan and a servant of the Creators and a disciple of the Creator of your choosing. You gain great honor but great responsibility as well. Are you ready?"

Zanrye did not hesitate.

"I am." He said to her, voice unwavering. There were no sounds in the audience. Such was improper. But he could almost feel his father Narvez's love reaching out to him.

"Name your Creator." Keeper said, already knowing.

"I follow the Creator Sylaise." Zanrye said. "I will be the champion of her words and teachings and make my way with her principles of ingenuity, survival, and love to guide me."

"Such is your way." Keeper said and the two artists came forward. Zanrye knew about this part and made his face like stone. The fire touch of the hot needle filled with the stone-grey coloring connect with his left eye and braced, eyed squinting only slightly. The artist was a professional and had done this many times before. Zanrye knew he was still being judged. He would not flinch; he would not move; he would not prove unworthy. He was a man now—of Sylaise like his mother and his father—his blood one.

The intricate symbol which resembled a plant in more ways than one was drawn on Zanrye's face, covering over his eyelids, eyebrow, and trailing down his cheek. He only shuddered twice and though his eyes watered, tears never fell. In time, the pain was all that remained, flaming. But the deed was done. He was blessed by Keeper and he got to his feet, directed back towards the meditation chamber. He was feeling lightheaded but at the same time steadier than he ever had before. He felt powerful and humble. He felt safe and unafraid. He had faced the trial and stood worthy. He was a man of the clan and the disciple of Sylaise. And as his mind was filled with the divinity of the blessed Creator, so too did his mother…and father…fill his mind. The smell of royal elfroot lingered in his nostrils.

* * *

PRESENT

He felt pain with each step as he tried to follow the most logical route from the last fire he'd seen with coals still somewhat warm. He kicked snow every which way as he did so, his throat dry and pained and his hands saved from the worst kind of frostbite because of his thick gloves. But soon even they would not be enough.

He had begun to see things. Visions perforating through the dark bright that surrounded him and threatened to bury him in the sea of death and cold. He knew they were visions because they did not smell of ice. They smelled of the different scents associated with each thing. He saw his mother, long dead. She kept a step ahead of him, guiding him through the death. He smelled his father, with one arm on his back and the other trying to block the snow from hitting him. His stepfather did the same from the other side.

He knew these people could not be here and yet…yet they were. They were here. One father's arm was his own. The other's was his other arm. His mother's hands brushing his face every now and then were his own, keeping the snow from his body.

And yet their images remained. They remained. And he could smell them in his nose even if he could not feel them on his skin. And then there were the voices. Nishia's, reciting to him facts of survival and telling him he "had to go." There was Ponawen's which was his ever-present laughter and smirk behind which he always held a blade.

His knees wobbled and his mother flickered as they did so. She was looking back, keeping his face forward with her hand. But stills he flickered, becoming brighter by the second. Zanrye peered at her, trying to make out her face but the brightness was obscuring her. He felt himself still stumbling, lurching, struggling to keep his footing. His fathers' arms were almost not enough. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head as he tried to call out 'mama.' Stll, there was only light, dimming now, taking his mother with it. He felt the pain creeping up, even more powerful as she became dimmer and the touches of his family became weaker.

"Mama" he murmured, knowing it was almost too late.

"Zanrye!" The voice was in his mind, more solid and powerful than the others that filled him. And he knew it.

"Solas…" he slurred, lurching yet again and feeling his feet betray him. He needed him. He fell to his knees, his voice weak and his face crumpled but without tears. "Please…Solas…."

And then his vision, the light, created the image of a girl with dark hair and a kind face…. The mage…the mage girl from his youth…the one that was able to get away…she…. She was darkening, aging. Her skin went from milky to almonds to the reddish brown of the dates they'd had in Tevinter. Her eyes darkened from blue to hazely-brown and grew worried and afraid, her nose elongating and a single mole forming on the right side of her mouth. The face was one that Zanrye found artful and beauteous. _A face like nature…_.

And Zanrye felt like he was in a dream still even as he heard Josephine cry out, "It's him! He's alive!" He felt himself crumple, body abandoning survival mode now that help was around. Her hands were on his arms and then there were footsteps and people surrounding him.

All he smelled was something Antivan and also…...leaves...…before he passed out.

* * *

PRESENT

REFUGE

He awoke to their argument, lying there as they each bickered about what had happened, what to do now, and whether or not to give up. Zanrye laid in bed, watching the proceedings. His body was warm and fluid and rested now. But it was still night. He had only slept about an hour. But he felt like he'd slept a lifetime. He felt numb but open as well, the paradox confusing him.

He was alive. They had a chance. They could defeat this Corypheus, avenge Ponawen, and…. And change the world.

Destiny.

He'd told Mother Giselle. She had been ominous but also cryptic. There was a destiny and a reason it had been him. And Zanrye…Zanrye was starting to believe it. He should have died back at Haven. He knew that in any normal circumstance, that would have been. But he hadn't. His family…fate…the Creators…had seen to it. But it was more than that. They had a chance because of him. And just as he had told Mother Giselle, "Corypheus didn't care what any of them believed." And neither did Zanrye…. Not now. Now…Corypheus had to be stopped. But the Mother was right. They needed more than an enemy. They needed a cause. And for Zanrye at least, the world…all of it…was good enough.

Zanrye had been visited by Lana immediately whom he had crushed into a hug. She had survived the attack and Ponawen was already en route to the clan beforehand. His family was safe. At least. For now.

Tempers were hot and flaring and Zanrye didn't dare go up to any of his team of advisors, even after they and the camp had joined in song. He wanted to but he thought better of it. Even though that little voice inside of him kept telling him to go and see Josephine. She'd looked still distraught after the song and had tried to preach about thinking things through during the arguing and bickering before. He really just…wanted…to see if she was holding up. He told himself not to care, that everything had died down, but it was easier to convince the mind than the body. And his body wanted almost nothing more than to see how she was and know what she was thinking.

His body was a traitorous piece of shit.

"Herald." Solas said, coming to him from the shadows. Zanrye looked up the man and instantly knew their relationship had changed from what it was.

"Ma serannas," Zanrye spoke to him, elven for thank you. Solas's eyes and incline of head told him that he had not imagined his voice…or fade vision. Solas had aided him. And Zanrye knew that Solas also accepted the change that was there. They would be enemies no more.

"Come…I want a word." He said and Zanrye left the scene of sobering up and togetherness to follow him. They left the warmth to a tall peak of a snowy hill. He sauntered to a torch it seemed he put there and ignited it before he turned his eyes to Zanrye.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for age beyond counting." Solas said, the topic welcome to Zanrye's ears. "Her faith is hard won, lethalin," the use of the word for kinship made Zanrye pause and stare but Solas continued, "worthy of pride…save for one detail. The threat Corypheus weilds…the orb he carries…it is ours." Zanrye looked puzzled. "Corypheus used the orb to open the breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave." Solas was grim. "We must find out how he survived…and we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."

He was talking a language that was purely Zanrye's. The fade-headed elf was meeting him on a ground where they both shared the same concerns. Zanrye crossed his arms but his stare was approving.

"Alright, what is it and how do you know about it?" He asked.

"Such things were foci." Solas said. "They were said to channel power from our Gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins… and faint visions of memories in the fade—echoes of a dead empire." Zanrye found that he was hanging on every word now that Solas began to speak of ancient elves. "But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven. And with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

Zanrye considered this. He was inclined to agree with Solas. But then he had to pause. The people…all of them…he thought of Cassandra. And Josephine.

"I would agree…but maybe I…" He looked back and then to Solas again, "They trust me… too much I'd say."

"Faith tends to make martyrs of its champions." Solas said darkly and Zanrye blinked for a moment before he thought.

"You're afraid for me." Zanrye said suddenly. "And yourself…but for us." Zanrye almost smiled. "I guess I'm glad…you're not quite as fade-headed as I once believed. You know what they can revert back to." He sighed. "And we'll be on our guard."

"Whatever the case," Solas said, approval in his eyes, "their faith cannot grow in the wilderness. You will need every advantage."

He was right about that at least. But Zanrye couldn't have himself feel afraid. Not now. He was wary and Solas was right for once—kept being increasingly right. But tonight, he couldn't have fear. What they all needed was a cause…and a home.

Solas looked at Zanrye, as if reading his mind—which he might be able to do. "We must scout to the north. There waits a place for the Inquisition to grow…a place to be held…." He looked at Zanrye directly. "You must be their guide…"

"We." Zanrye corrected him. Solas hesitated.

"We." He agreed. "But more so you…you have their trust." He sighed. "Together…we will come to find the place that holds back the sky…."

* * *

NEARLY A THREE WEEKS LATER

Zanrye had sent out the ravens and received nearly a dozen more that day. They flew into the stone towers through the blue-purple skies. He saw the gates of Skyhold, with unkempt foliage and cobbled, beaten down paths opening and closing and then spied his team huddled together. They had spent a week getting here and even more time clearing it out and making room. Zanrye and everyone else had been so busy, he saw nearly no one save for Solas and Cassandra when he had time. Today, they were clumped.

He walked down the steps and they waved him over. But as he got to them, they dispersed. All but Cassandra. He eyed her. She had him walk with her.

"More come every day." She told him. "If word has reached these people, it has reached the Elder One." She climbed the steps to the main grassy courtyard before the Inquisition's buildings. Zanrye followed. "We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here. But this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But…we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus—what drew him to you."

"Yeah, he came for the anchor." Zanrye looked at his hand. "But now it's useless to him so we win and can use it against him." Cassandra was shaking her head, almost smiling.

"The anchor…has power Zanrye…but that's not why you're standing here." She said. She kept walking and Zanrye now had to follow, a little bit uneasy. "Your decisions let us heal the sky. You determination brought us from Haven." She stood at the foot of the steps leading to the main building of Skyhold. "You are the creature's rival because of what _you_ did. We all know it." She climbed the stairs and Zanrye followed slowly behind her, not quite understanding and his reaction to being led by a shem with somewhat ominous words triggered him. But it was Cassandra so he kept on faithfully.

And as he came to the first platform of the steps, he saw Leliana holding a sword in her hands, head bowed over it as if she was its holder….ready to bequeath it…to…him?

Zanrye slowly looked behind him and saw the people gathering below. Countless people, a sea of human faces and elf and even a few dwarves. The trees had begun to blow and the many eyes were all turned upon him as Leliana held the sword out to him. Zanrye barely heard Cassandra as he said, "…the one who had already been leading it…you."

Zanrye's ears were hot and he was speechless. He inhaled sharply and saw Lana's face instantly, looking up at him with a thoughtful but proud expression. The color was back in her face. He saw Solas standing not far away with a small smile of approval—something rare. Cullen, Harding, Bull, Dorian, Sera…. Josephine stepped out from behind Cullen, looking up at him with eyes and smile that made his ears prickle and cued his insane pervert mind to whisper: _She's looking at you like you're a hero_.

"I…" he took his eyes off the crowd to look at Cassandra. "I don't know what to say."

"That you will not make me regret this." She said ruefully, smirking with fierce pride.

"If you're not sure…" Zanrye began, a little defensive…but was it because he was offended or because he wanted her to not doubt him?

"Because I believe this is meant to be." Cassandra said. "That without you, there would be no Inquisition. What it means for the future…how you lead us…is entirely up to you."

It was a greatsword, gold and with such delicate forging that Zanrye could not help but admire before hesitant but firm hands came to grip it. It felt right—too right. And then he got the same feeling again…the one back in the cold of the wilderness…the one when he got his vallaslin….

"Our concern must be the order and safety of this world." He said, as if realizing it himself. "Corypheus must be stopped…and I'm not some "chosen"…but I have chosen." _As Sylaise grants us that power…to be able to create…to choose…to make…._ He continued, "And I… will lead us to victory." Cassandra stood to the edge.

"Have our people been told?" She yelled down. Cullen had to suppress his outright grin but Zanrye could tell he was bursting as he turned to the woman stepping to the front.

"They have." Josephine answered, her face glowing. Zanrye's eyes were locked with hers. "And soon, the world." She stood before the three.

"Commander, will they follow?" Cassandra asked. Rather than answer, he left it to the people. He faced them, asking, "Inquisition, will you follow?" The cheers and roars baffled and pleased Zanrye all at once. Each of them, not a hand out of place—not one person abstaining…. "Will you fight? Will we triumph?" No qualms, no worries, to misgivings. For him…an elf…these shems…. His eyes took in a dream with the life bursting out of these people, rising into the air and gleaming with the sun that streamed down on them and the leaves falling to join them. The wind blew through. It smelled different, felt different…but not wrong.

"Your leader, your herald, your Inquisitor!" Cullen drew his sword, brandishing and the noise nearly deafened Zanrye but vitalized him as well and he too thrust his sword into the air.

Now, it had begun.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP: So we have made it to Corypheus and have made it also to Skyhold where Zanrye is leader of the inquisition.

SEMENTIC/NON-SEMENTIC STUFF

-Falon'Din is the God of death more or less in the elven pantheon (valley of the shadow of death :D )

-Lana is alive still. All companions have been gotten. I know I haven't mentioned vivienne but know that she is around as of now  
\- Clan Lavellan is kicking by the way and Ponawen should have reached it by now (presumably :p )  
-Aneth ara, da'len: my safe place, little one. (aka, the common greeting they shared before two episodes ago and he is calling him a young one. It is meant to be a playful jab but Zanrye is so suspicious and in too much pain to joke back obviously)  
-All of clan Lavellan have stone grey colored markings with a few exceptions.

NON INQUISITION CAST

Nishia- (girl) best friend

Ponawen- (boy, deceased) best friend en route to burial with clan

Lana- (girl) keeper's second, with Zanrye at Skyhold

Kaynala- (girl) friend. still alive

Mima- (girl) younger sister by five years


	7. Skyhold's Hearth

SKYHOLD

Zanrye stepped in the Ambassador's office. He had just been talking to the stable master and needed to check in. Things were coming along slowly but surely. He entered to Leliana and Josephine, together as usual. He stepped forward and Josephine instantly gave him the details.

"We are in the midst of cementing an alliance with Lady Forsythia of Nevarra, your worship." She said to him. "It's become a somewhat delicate task."

"Meaning you may need more guards outside your room?" Zanrye asked.

"That won't be necessary." Josephine laughed. "We managed to convince her not to send soldiers once she learned we struck an accord with the brother she's feuding with." Zanrye did not budge. "Lady Forsythia simply employs a colorful manner of speech."

"I heard more than colorful." Zanrye shook his head then looked at her. "You're rather good natured about threats of death and dismemberment."

"They are chiefly bluster, inquisitor." She said. "Most…." She stood now, looking around. Zanrye couldn't help but almost smile at her disregarding such threats. She was too firm and tactical to give any basis to them unless they proved to be of merit he supposed. She continued on, now looking forlorn. "I do confess…I miss my staff from the embassy in Antiva. It was always useful to discuss the daily visitors with them. To get a sound analysis."

Zanrye eyed her. He hesitated but a moment and then blurted, "I…have time, if you'd like to… review things with me."

"I wouldn't wish to impose." Josephine waved him off. The response was like a challenge to Zanrye. She was still ever independent, ever keeping the proper distance. He fought not to roll his eyes at her.

"If it were imposing, I wouldn't have offered." He said instead, taking a step toward her.

"Well, I admit…there are a few potential alliances it would be good to discuss." Josephine said, yielding. Zanrye gestured his arm out for her to lead the way. And so she did.

After deliberation, they traveled up to his room and onto his balcony. She talked the whole way there—about who had come from where, why, how it went, and when some had rescheduled. The information came in currents, with Josephine resembling a scroll more so than a person.

But with a few jabs from Zanrye, Josephine's content changed from business to gossip. It started with Zanrye talking about the chantry members and took off from there. It was only after Zanrye had laughed hard at one thing she said that he came to realize their predicament. He was enthralled with her, even invited her up to his room. Zanrye fought not to stare at her as she spoke to him—his arm on the balcony, his head cocked to the side. His fucking body seemed to be hell-bent on latching to her. He shouldn't like to hear a shem woman gibber and gossip as much as he was enjoying it now. But to see her unraveled, vibrant and admiring and complaining and chattering away… _Seeing her comfortable and open_.

"Inquisitor." A scout was nearly right behind them. Zanrye turned to him as though coming from a trance. He looked to him, disgruntled that he was in his room. The man stammered. "I knocked …for a long time at your door. We have more visitors…."

"Goodness…have we been here an hour already?" Josephine asked, surprised.

"I hadn't noticed." Zanrye said to her, ignoring the scout. Josephine seemed abashed by the scout's presence and the setting.

"You are far too polite." She said, hands clasped. _Demure again_. "You must think me quite the gossip. I didn't mean to go on and on…."

"I don't. It's not a chore to spend time with you…." Zanrye said to her instantly, eyes fixed on her face, her eyes would not meet his.

"Um…ser?" The scout asked. Zanrye zoned back on him. He sighed. "Right." But when Josephine moved, the scout looked back at Zanrye.

"This guest is for you ser…asked for ye' directly."

Zanrye frowned and went down the stairs, Josephine behind him. He asked her if she knew what this was about and she shook her head, saying she had not contacted anyone from Celene's Court to send ambassadors—nor were there any people from the Free Marches that would come to anyone other than her, the Inquisition Ambassador.

Zanrye got his answer when he stepped into the long foyer that was still half-cleaned up. The person was walking to him in long strides, sure and unabashed. And the moment Zanrye's eyes fixed, his heart skipped and he took off in fast power-walking strides in return. He left the scout and Josephine behind, slowly trailing, watching with interest and confusion as he gripped Nishia into the biggest hug he could, lifting her off her feet and pressing his lips to the edge of hers, crushing her hard to him. Everyone else just stared, stunned.

* * *

8 YEARS EARLIER

They were swimming. Just the two of them. It was rare with all their moving around that Zanrye and Nishia got to actually enjoy the area, let alone have some time alone.

They were still in the Green Dales—Antiva territory. But he knew he would leave it soon. But he loved Antiva. It smelled so good. It felt so good. The colors just seemed to fit.

"I think I'll say yes." Nishia was saying to him. Zanrye felt his stomach do a flip and he looked up from his back where he floated, sun in his eyes. She looked majestic. She really did. She had always reminded him of his mom in that way. Though they looked so different, they both had this regality, this almost holy appearance. Her locked hair floated out behind her, reaching several inches. She had locked the curls almost three years ago and now Zanrye couldn't think of another style for her angular face.

"Is that really what you want?" He asked her. She had not turned onto her front. She just floated. Her face seemed torn, different from the steely, somewhat serious face everyone else saw.

"I don't know…." She replied uncertainly. "But I know what he wants…. And it's not what I want. No matter how good he works for me."

Zanrye swam over to her, treading close. Her large green eyes met his and he could see the deliberation within them. And he wanted to help.

"Cal is…he's the perfect hearth man." Zanrye reasoned. "Besides me of course." Nishia chuckled at that. "That's what you need for sure…. But he also…."

"He wants children." Nishia finished for him. "He wants me to move from my house to his. And he'll keep badgering me about moving from hunter to guard."

"And are those things you can compromise on Nishia?" Zanrye asked her, knowing her answer of silence would follow. He sighed, looking out at the lake. "I think you know what you don't want…but you haven't really been in a situation like this before. Neither of us have. If anything, you'd have to maybe go to Po or Lana…though…you now Po…."

"Yeah…" Nishia said quietly, chuckling. "He doesn't give a damn about anything more than his own whims—besides us. We saw that when he refused to compromise for Denosa." She sighed now, turning her gaze towards him once more. "Are you going to give me a straight answer?"

"No." Zanrye shook his head. "This is for you to decide Nishia. It's too big for me."

"But I'm not asking if it's for me to decide." Nishia challenged him. "I know that my instinct is to say no. But is that because I'm unwilling to compromise…or because…I'm scared. He will ask me to change; not in greatly drastic ways but it'll…."

"Change your life." Zanrye finished. Nishia sighed and then dunked underwater to resurface, smoothing the wet from her face and hair so she could see. Zanrye frowned and then suddenly he was resolute. He reached over to his friend and wrapped a hand around one of her forearms.

"Do you want a straight answer?" He asked her finally. He was almost nervous but not afraid. "I want to tell you that you're not and won't ever be like one of the women in Po's stories, whether you marry Cal or not. Po's just teasing." He looked dead into her eyes. "And you shouldn't be afraid of becoming that because you won't and I'd never let you. But you're also too afraid of a divine plan…too afraid that something will slip you up and set you off course…or tear you down. And I don't think Cal would ever do that to you. He wants you as you are. And that means being vulnerable. You shouldn't be afraid of letting people besides me see you cry over a dead bird or gush about costumes for Winterfest—"

"No one needs to know those things besides you, Rye, and if you try to tell anyone—" Nishia's half-joking threat began but Zanrye wouldn't let her deter from the subject at hand.

"Shia." He routed her back in the moment. "You're closer to me than my own blood and I know …that you know what you want better than anybody else. I could never tell you that. But I do know you and I want to see you happy…and I know…you'd be happy with Cal." Nishia's eyes bore into his as he paused and continued, "but…you wouldn't be true to yourself…or happy…if you went and got married to Cal. Not now…maybe not ever."

He had said it. He released her from his grip and floated near her, waiting for her to say something. She stared at him and then the water. And then the sky. Her eyes stayed there for a long while and she spoke with them still directed there.

"Thank you Rye." She said softly. "You really do know me better than anyone else…."

"I've had my whole life to learn." He laughed softly, still at her side. "And I wouldn't want you to…betray yourself…who you are…by either stifling what you feel or pretending to feel something you don't. I think that your feelings are telling you not to say yes. And you should remain the person you are. Because if you say yes…I feel like…you might…not be the same person that you are. You might reject who you were born to be…for this relationship."

"High stakes." She replied, without humor. She looked down to him and a serene smile came across her face. "I know that you're right…. I guess I just didn't want to be wrong…and lose Cal…but if I do…it means he wasn't right after all…." She inhales, her face becoming calmer again. "Now that you're done having to tell me what I feel—"

"Now, let's swim back to shore and practice some sparring before it gets too dark." He finished for her. The smile on her face warmed him to his core, an accomplished feeling in his chest. Too many times, he was on the receiving end of these talks and receiving her help. But he had helped her too and seen her at her highest and lowest. And each time he helped her felt better than the last, especially about something so important.

"You're reading my mind still," she joked.

"Trying," He replied and thought before continuing, "And then let me make you dinner. Just you and me okay? Po will probably already be trying to find a spring to dip his root in anyway."

"Never can keep his cock dry." Nishia shook her head and righted herself, agreeing to go to shore. She swam ahead and Zanrye looked at her retreating figure for a second and followed.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"But it doesn't give me any pain." Zanrye explained the mark to Nishia for the twelfth time as they ate their luncheon on the upper tower overlooking all of Skyhold nearly. Lana was with them and even Solas had joined the mix for lunch. He had come traipsing by on their tour (the three of them), become infatuated with the talk of the ceremonial practices for the deceased as explained by Nishia, and so the four of them continued on until they ended up here.

"It's some of the most advanced magic I've seen ever." Solas chimed in. He licked honey from his fingers as they ate ram sandwiches topped with honey; crackers and cheese on the side. They all drunk cider or milk alongside it, with a human servant running at their beck and call.

Up above the life but yet attached to it, Zanrye felt good. He hadn't felt this much at peace in such a long time—since he left his clan months ago and the conclave was destroyed. But sitting up here with Nishia at his side and Lana felt like old times—even if they were bittersweet with Ponawen's absence. He lived on through Nishia in a lot of ways—as the two had always been two sides of the same coin. Ponawen had touched both his and Nishia's lives and was not easily forgotten.

And Solas being here completed the scene to mirror when they used to encounter other Dalish clans and all exchange stories and even take on some of their mages back in the day. Solas was even a mage! The scene reminded him of home and he couldn't keep the smile off of his face as they all sat.

"You must be well versed then in studies of the fade." Nishia commented. "More than I know."

"Perhaps." Solas agreed. "But in regards to what we were speaking of: if the information Zanrye has said is true, your clan in particular is somewhat…behind and ahead of its time, if you'll pardon the paradox." Nishia gave a half laugh.

"It's fine." She replied. "There are many things taken from the old ways and others left out. Clan Lavellan won't bend to the changing times and existence of Templars and turn out mages like others do. We embraced them. Sure, there were dangers but magic isn't feared like it is with humans." She thought. "Magic is blameless. Users aren't."

Solas's smile never wavered the whole meal and Zanrye almost had to laugh at how obviously enthralled he seemed to be with his friend Nishia—that and he was a bit defensive. Perhaps it was his male dominance wanting to assert itself. _This is_ _my_ _friend, fade-boy. Remember that._ But seeing Solas so happy and talking to him more and more was too refreshing to let his ego dominate him.

Soon, they were even teaching Solas songs they sung back at their clan—the ones relating to the ancient times of course. But this bliss was interrupted by Josephine. Zanrye eyed her as she approached them. She seemed to be straight-backed and authoritative—as if approaching another Lord or Lady that they needed to convince to be an ally.

"Inquisitor." She bowed her head and looked only at Zanrye. "Forgive the intrusion but you all have been up here for the better part of three hours and the soldiers and servants seem afraid to interrupt the meeting. But Commander Cullen has been asking for you as it pertains to the movement of weaponry into armories and you still need to look over the room assignments for everyone here."

Zanrye blinked and just looked at her for a moment. He was not angry but the atmosphere did shift with her appearance. She was…a shem…intruding into their elvhen comradery. The silence that lasted no more than five seconds but felt like five years stopped when Solas stood.

"And I also must continue my training of the mages. I hadn't realized I'd gotten so close to the hour." He looked down at Nishia. "I trust I'll see you later on?"

"She'll be staying with us a while." Zanrye answered for her before Nishia could even turn to ask him if it was alright. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You'll get your fill of her Solas. No need to be worried." The group laughed, all except for Josephine and Solas himself. Zanrye continued, "She'll stay as long as she wants of course." At this, Nishia nodded at him in approval of his making sure to say it was her choice.

"I want to join him." Lana said to the two of them. "But we should see one another for dinner."

"I can have two more beds brought to my room." Zanrye said to Lana, standing as well and helping her up. "Unless you two would like to share."

"You know I don't like to share." Lana shook her head. "And neither does Shia." She smiled at Solas and the two departed as Zanrye helped Nishia to her feet, leaving Josephine to stand there, still waiting to have her requests acknowledged—something that had not been done.

"Yes…" Zanrye began. "Forgive me Ambassador." He thought, looking to Nishia. "Would it be alright if I steal away for less than an hour? Just to make sure everything is alright. Then, the rest of the day, I'm yours."

"Of course. There are duties. Duty is first." Nishia said to him simply. "I'll go about setting up the room and inspect your horses for our ride."

"Ride?" Zanrye laughed.

"You've always been moderate at riding, I haven't forgotten." Nishia said bluntly. "Let's examine your stock and put it to the Lavellan test."

"I've gotten better." Zanrye warned her.

"We'll determine that today." Nishia replied. Zanrye turned to Josephine.

"I will meet you in your office." He said to her hesitantly. "I want to assign someone to make sure Nishia's orders are followed…." He seemed a bit awkward. "What with…the state of things." She would know what he meant—the Inquisition was still getting used to a knife ear leading or barking orders.

"Of course Inquisitor." Josephine said politely. Zanrye felt himself smile at her involuntarily. He knew he would have forgotten about everything today had it not been for her. Again, here she was coming to remind him that there was a world outside of the little one he had escaped to, or the ones inside his head. When Josephine did not return his smile but merely gave a small sort of smile with a bow of her head before heading back down the steps, he felt himself get a bit cold. _Something's wrong_ , his body told him. _See what's wrong with her_.

"I'll follow you." Nishia interrupted his thoughts and Zanrye realized he had been looking after Josephine's retreating figure. Nishia did not acknowledge it, instead was seemingly engrossed in the scenery but Zanrye could feel his neck getting hot and this strange fear form in his stomach.

It was shame.

* * *

PRESENT

FOREST AROUND SKYHOLD

The two elves galloped through the barren paths, with seldom few trees but enough to create twists and turns. They were headed toward the cliffside where the ground sloped. And Nishia was in the lead. The tail of her horse switched back and forth as the trees became blurs on either side of them. The air rushing through his hair, his armor removed and allowing the air to breeze through his tunic and trousers was how Zanrye rode as well. He jostled and bounced trying to get to her. She always kept ahead and soon she had jumped over the cliff onto the grassy meadow below. Zanrye followed her, the familiar whooshing in his stomach clouding his mind with joy and fear until the hooves of the horse connected to the grass again and their race was finished.

"They're slow." Nishia commented, dismounting in seconds.

"Well they aren't in use for races and sprints." He said. "They're used as messengers. For deliveries and the like. And sometimes helping with pulling the carriages."

"That's no matter." Nishia said, still surveying the area. She sat on a nearby log and Zanrye came to sit beside her. Their alone time was here at last, apart from visitors and prying ears. "And you're sure this is what you want?" She had changed the subject to the real deliberation at hand.

"I know that Corypheus needs to be stopped." Zanrye replied. "And I know that the Inquisition is the only thing that can do that." He hesitated. "And the Inquisition can do more than just stop him. It can…maybe even…change…things…."

It was hard to get the last part out of his mouth because he knew her reaction before she gave him the stoic look.

"This isn't a fantasy." She reminded him.

"I know that." Zanrye said to her. "I'm not saying this can change everything…."

"But you think it can change the world enough to stick with it." She finished for him, her tone full of condescension. And Zanrye could not blame her. He knew how he sounded.

"I have to for the time being anyhow." Zanrye said. "Until we stop Corypheus and fix this." He paused. "And he is the reason for Po's death…and all those other people's deaths…."

"He has to be stopped." Nishia agreed. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not judging your choice to lead. If anyone knows how to survive superior forces, it's an elf, especially one like you." She paused, her hand sliding away. "You're settling into the Inquisition. The only question I have as it concerns that is your idealism."

Zanrye sighed, not answering her. He knew that he had softened on these shems, trusted them, and had slowly but surely come to think of the Inquisition as a way to facilitate his dreams of elves being elevated. But elevated to where, to equality with shems? Or superiority, turning them to heel? How could he achieve that within a shem organization? Did he even want that anymore?

Solas's words reverberated around his mind: they would blame them eventually…. Even fade-headed Solas had said it. The "otherness" was imbedded within shem and elven thought alike….

"I don't want you to forget the difference between allies and friends." Nishia said to him finally after the silence stretched. "Allies are to be respected but their condition is not stone." She looked back up at the trees. "Even the city elves." Zanrye knew this fact—knew how many were like Sera and had little to no racial pride at all.

"I'll keep that in mind." He assured her quietly. Nishia's gaze came back to him. Her green eyes were piercing and flat. She was going to keep on.

"And I do not believe in exceptions." She said, her face not hiding what she was talking about. Zanrye kept her stare but felt his ears getting hot. He clenched his jaw and looked to his hands. "Don't insult me either." She was stern. "I can feel how her eyes fall on me—the jealousy there. And I can see your own eyes following her."

Zanrye felt like a child caught stealing a sweet. He did not meet her eyes and felt the strongest urge to cry out that she was wrong—to deny what she was implying. He kept his eyes on his hands. A sick, dirty feeling came to him.

"I've never understood when elves had attractions to shems," Nishia continued when he did not answer. "It's usually the city elves, who can almost be excused for it. They've eaten the gruel shems give them their whole lives." She seemed to struggle now to remain even in her tone. "I never expected it from you, though…."

"It's not…" Zanrye tried to start but couldn't speak, his embarrassment too much for his vocal chords, and he inhaled sharply. And he knew that if he finished his lie, he would feel worse for having tried to lie to the only other woman who knew him like his mother knew him.

"I guess it's…understandable…I mean, where are your options?" She surmised, but her voice was sharp still. She was looking at the sky again. "Certainly not Sera the queer or any of the servants who see you through shem eyes." She sighed. "And even for a shem, she fits your tastes I guess…in a…shemmy way." She sighed now and her voice spoke the last words not quite fast but curt. "All of these things…just make me fearful that you may be getting too… attached to the shems in your company. There are no exceptions, Rye. Not for something like this. I can understand wanting to wet your branch but…even though lusting for shems is bad enough, this doesn't look like lust to me. This looks like romance—that's where jealousy comes in…."

Zanrye heard her, the words being tossed around his head. He would be shaking if not for the log beneath him and his hands being clenched together to stabilize him. He felt fear and shame and even with that, he felt a slight stirring, buried under all the negative feelings, and his perverted mind managed to make sense of all the information: _Josephine is jealous for your attention…._

And that made Zanrye finally find his voice. He knew he could not lie to Nishia and so he didn't.

"I'm hearing you." He assured her, her eyes still to the sky. His eyes were forward. He steadied himself and continued, "And I…do know…that I have softened to the shems here. Not them as being shems but a few…especially…especially Josephine." He swallowed, fighting the urge to just sigh and change the subject. Nishia would not allow it. "And with her…she's a shem. And I don't see past that. Not really. But something about her…feels different…than other shems I've met. Her concern feels…so…without reservation—I don't know what it is really. I just know that she sees things a…different way. Not elven. But…." He did sigh now and found his voice come stronger. "I don't care any more for shems than I did before, Shia…. And if it came to them or the elven people, there isn't a question over which I would pick."

"I'm not entirely sure of that right now, Rye." Nishia said to the trees.

"You don't have to doubt that." Zanrye said. "And I'm dreaming with the Inquisition a little…I can see that. But I'm not doing it to the detriment of our people. And when the time comes to determine what the Inquisition is used for, I'll want to have you…as I would have Ponawen… guiding me to the answer."

"And that would serve as you leaving your clan." Nishia said simply. Her eyes still refused to come down from the skies.

"Plenty of elves leave to go out to sea, to live as nomads, to join another clan." Zanrye said urgently, pleadingly. "I'm not joining the Inquisition as a shem organization…I want to…I want to make it mine—I only just got to be Inquisitor…next…well, we'll see what I can put into motion. But I haven't forgotten anything. And I'll try to get all the things I want—like ensuring our clan won't have to move because of shem attacks and can go wherever we want."

"You're sounding fantastical again." Nishia said but Zanrye's eyes met hers as he realized her tone of voice was less strained, less stern.

"I'm only speaking of possibilities." Zanrye said, feeling his tenseness slowly ease to something less severe. "And I…I only want to have a chance to do something…. The world might end anyway if I fail…at least let me try to change the world I save."

There was no mistaking the pride that Nishia tried to hide. She was proud of him, despite how idealistic or questionable he and his practices were. Many of her fears were being quelled by his admittances and declarations…he hadn't changed too much…into something too different to stomach. But her eyes were on the ground when she spoke after a time.

"But that still doesn't convince me about the shem woman." She said, her expression withdrawn and tone flat. Zanrye felt himself get itchy around the ears again. It was harder to justify this than it was staying with the Inquisition. Because Zanrye did not have any justification for it.

"She's…I don't even know what's going on with her." Zanrye started. Nishia interrupted him.

"You are attracted to her, Rye. You want to be romantic with her." She said sharply but not without some ounce of kindness. Just blunt.

"I…" Zanrye almost felt this was harder to admit than his previous statement—as if he were confessing he wanted to mate with a hound or a child. He was grudging. "I don't know why…I find her…interesting. And…kind of…alluring…in a way." Boy was he struggling to get this out. He was fighting admitting that he actually wanted a shem.

"She will never be an exception." Nishia looked dead into his eyes when she said this. "She will never be not a shem, Rye. Whether you want to have your cock in her or spend your days with her; no matter how different she feels or how much she cares about elves, she is still a shem and will always be so. She has the capacity to be just like all those who've hurt us in the past." Nishia paused, gathering her thoughts. "And love…is also…not a justification for compromising your duty to your race above all things. Elves don't have that luxury." She over-talked him as he tried to open his mouth to deny any talk of love. "And I'm not saying this is love but this isn't just base. It's friendship, it's the tenderness, it's the romance of it." She did not blink before she finished. "She's a shem. And I can't ever be alright with you being with one of them. But you will always be my lethallin, my family, my flesh; my Rye. And as long as you remain that person, as long as you do not become a shem's male bed-wench, I will always support you… even in your fanciful dreams for the Inquisition."

She was laying down the law and Zanrye understood perfectly the situation, even more so than he had before she'd come. And for some reason, it was as if a great burden had been lifted even though nothing had changed. His shame over his body's reaction to Josephine seemed less now. Though he still did not want it…he knew that he did want it. And wanting it did not change who he was, or who he was growing in to. Even with his appreciation for the shems in his group, he had never lost his apprehension, his self-preserving instinct to be watchful. He separated Cass and Cullen and even Leliana from the overall shem mindset, true, but he knew that he felt for them in spite of their shem nature and background. He knew things could easily go wrong. He understood they were not quite friends (well, except maybe Cassandra but he was trying).

But Josephine…was a different case entirely. Because unlike the others, he could not help the vulnerability he knew he was exposing to her. Slowly but surely. Like the girl from his youth. It was a progression that he could not quite reign in. He was giving her power he knew a shem should not have over him in any capacity—the ability to influence his purpose.

"I still love you Rye." Nishia said suddenly and Zanrye realized he'd been looking into the distance in silence. Her voice was joking but also assuring. And Zanrye laughed and hugged her tight when he heard this.

"I'm glad." He said, crushing her to him. "Because I'd be fucking devastated if you didn't. And I love you too." He held her to him still and felt everything start to turn back to normal. But not quite normal of course.

"We're all we have left." Nishia spoke into his chest, arms wrapped back around him. "Po gone …and Kaynala married off and…Lana becoming a mage disciple." She held him tighter and Zanrye kept his grip locked on her. "I have to lead the hunters at the clan…so I can't stay here for more than a week…but I'll be here when you need me…when you're going to go after that filthy shemlen." Her words were riddled with bloodlust and hurt and vulnerability. "And then…I'll be here…when you need me, to help you help us all." She sighed into him and they sat there for a long moment in each other's embrace before she added, "even if you have a shem thing on your arm when I visit."

Zanrye couldn't help but laugh at what she said to him but even the thought of Josephine suddenly linked to his arm in bonding embarrassed and shamed him.

And it also filled his body with enough heat to warm the entire castle.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Zanrye ended his day earlier than he would have. The night was dark but still relatively middle-aged. He was going to have dinner with the three other elves and then it was off to bed for an early morning sparring with Nishia—as he should have expected.

Before changing however, he stopped by Josephine's new office, still in need of some work. He entered to find her scribbling away and when she looked up at him, there was the usual recognition in her eyes but also a politely stoic edge. She smiled briefly and her eyes went back to her notes while she spoke.

"Inquisitor." She said. "Good day to you."

"Evening I suppose." Zanrye commented, stepping up to the desk. Josephine gave a small laugh that sounded only a tad bit forced and kept on writing, asking, "was there something you needed of me?"

Zanrye didn't answer immediately. He looked out the window of the office at the night sky with the light from the tent fires below flickering orange and yellow. He did not want his nervousness to show.

"I was wondering…if you could make sure to keep everyone aware of the times I will be definitely preoccupied tomorrow." Zanrye said slowly.

"Of course, my lord." Josephine nodded. "And I do apologize for the interruption earlier. If I had any other choice, I would not have interrupted a gathering with someone…with so many of importance to you."

She had slipped up and her darting her eyes away from his showed it. _She's jealous_. Zanrye found it a bit hard to swallow as he tried to keep his breathing calm and temperature down. But the thought of her feeling defensive about his affections…made his stomach (and the region below it) get the slightest bit tighter…stiffer.

"We were negligent of the time." Zanrye apologized. "And it's good you came to get me. I wouldn't want my friend's appearance to waste any of the time needed for our duties."

Josephine nodded, making no indication that she heard or took into consideration Zanrye calling Nishia his friend and not anything more romantic. Zanrye knew he would have to be a man and just come out with it but he had only just a few hours ago admitted to himself that he had the possibility of even liking this woman, let alone the possibility to act on this attraction. It was something tainted, dirty, unforgivable…and yet felt so clean….

"W-when…Skyhold seems to be in functioning condition," Zanrye began to say, forcing himself to look at her even as she looked down to her notes, "…I was wondering…if you might want to …" his mouth was drying and he spoke the last part quickly, "maybe tour the new territories offered to the Inquisition."

The request was met with a confused but intrigued look from Josephine. She looked up at him then and Zanrye literally felt his spine prickle.

"Would…someone else not be better suited for the task, my lord?" She asked evenly. And Zanrye realized that she was playing hard ball. If Nishia was right about Josephine's suspicions and perhaps jealousy, then she was indeed guarding herself and punishing him for his earlier lack of tact and thoughtfulness. And to think of her firmly fencing with him and not rolling over got him hard right there in her office, the area in between his legs in serious need of adjustment. And it also made him respond just as firmly.

"Maybe someone else is," he answered her, never letting her eyes stray from his, "But I want you."

He saw her steely resolve quiver and her flustering began. Poised flustering, showing her exasperation but acceptance of his forwardness while not becoming too submissive. He realized then that he enjoyed that a lot—too much. _Make her soft and flexible and flustered…with a little pressure…then give her the pleasure she knows she wants_.

That thought was a bit more perverted than usual. It must be the erection talking.

"Well if…you insist…and you'd not prefer another…I will accompany you." Josephine said nicely, slightly stuttering. Her small smile, more like normal, warmed him and Zanrye gave her a smile in return that he hoped didn't look as sexually charged as he was feeling.

"I'll schedule it soon." He promised. "Just you and I." _Alone, able to do any manner of things we wish—in any positions we wish_. His mind was getting away from him now. He paused, knowing he should leave and that this should be all but wanting to hear what would prove Nishia right and …satisfy his curiosity. "Of course, that isn't an order…as your Inquisitor. It's a request."

"One by which I'm much obliged." Josephine answered instantly. "And one that I accept." That was it. Zanrye nodded to her, not being able to not smile as he left the room. It was a nervous one when he made it out but a smile nonetheless. Nishia had set it off now. As had Josephine.

He also made sure to detour to a washroom before he joined his friends upstairs. It wouldn't due to be encountered in such a state. If anything, he'd never hear the end of it. And that was more embarrassment than he could handle for today.


	8. A Courtly Affair

[WARNING: Chapter Contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity]

* * *

SKYHOLD

The peace talks drew nearer. As the weeks went by, new areas opened to the Inquisition, crows were exchanged with various contacts, and Zanrye could scarcely get any time for himself. After Nishia and Lana had gone back, he had suddenly felt very alone. If not for Solas, he wasn't sure what he would have done. The man was withdrawn but supportive. And he kept Zanrye's quota of elves to talk to at a steady 'one' count.

But even with all the fixing up, talking to visitors, contacting trainers, and writing to various factions throughout Thedas, Zanrye still remembered his promise. He had been choosing areas and readying horses. Truth be told, he had made quite a plan for this getaway. He chose Cassandra to look over things in his stead. No matter how great Solas had grown, he was no leader like Cassandra, who was suspicious why Josephine was not asked to handle the task but Zanrye avoided such inquiries. He was self-conscious about the whole world knowing that she was coming with him….

He'd never really been on dates like this before, he realized. There was usually a wealth of gem, foliage, and greenery where he came from—where he could make or take anything to give to her as they danced, played stones, rode…but she was from a different world. A shem world…. Zanrye tried not to think about that. He wasn't backing out. But she did come from a world of… shopping? Balls? Theater?

"Where to first, my lord?" Josephine asked as she stepped into the carriage, removing her hood finally. It was about midday. "You have not given me the list of destinations for us to view."

"The first isn't all that new." Zanrye shrugged, already in the carriage. He did not make eye contact with her, more nervous now that the date was starting. After his talk with Nishia…and how forward he was just a few weeks ago…it overwhelmed him. He'd never been in such a… foreign…situation before.

"What do you mean?" Josephine asked him. Zanrye glanced her way.

"I've been to the Oasis before…once upon a time." He said slowly. Josephine's eyes were wide as she stared, the carriage now. She had not taken any bags. Nor had he.

"All the way there…today?" She paused. "Are we…going to be able to visit them all if we are to travel that far a distance first?"

"I've already left Cassandra instructions for the next five days," Zanrye said to the floor.

"Zanrye—Inquisitor!" Josephine's voice was scolding. "There is far too much to do! I don't think that we can afford to take off that much time with all that's coming up—"

"I know." He turned and met her eyes, saw her falter as he did so. He kept on. "So before we never get another chance, I wanted to survey these. Plus, they've already invited me because they met a Dalish clan in the Oasis. I plan to view them all. And I thought it easier to take you each time…than to go back for you."

Josephine's eyes were analyzing him, he knew. He did not look away and soon she seemed to accept this and settled back primly. Zanrye knew he exhaled loudly, with relief. They didn't say much for a time as they kept on along the road. Zanrye knew he should say something. But this was…oddly…hard for him. And why?

 _Because she's beautiful. And smart. And can see through any small talk you'll try to use_. He reasoned that those were probably right.

* * *

10 YEARS EARLIER

Zanrye's mind was on the move that was bound to happen. It always came after there'd been too many shem sightings or shem harassments on his clan. Keeper had already asked about starting the shops this week.

He tried to root himself back in the moment. He never could keep his mind on sex with her.

Kirina was bent over on all fours, ass high in the air with her chest nearly flat on the blankets that were mussed. She moaned softly from time to time but mostly panted. The bed creaked every now and then as Zanrye thrusted into her with the speed of a fennec. His hands kept grip on her ass to steady them. Their sexes were the only things connected to each other. He was straight up, on his knees, behind her and trying to get her to the edge and over it.

He knew he wouldn't finish. Not like this. He never could.

His mind was on what else had to be done today. He'd promised Kaynala he would help her to pack up the scouting equipment he always borrowed and returned filthy. Maybe after this, he'd try to round that up, see if Nishia could help him with the herbs….

Her breathing became a bit steadier, bad sign; Zanrye pulled her bottom closer so that he could get a better reach inside her and slapped one of her ass cheeks. That seemed to get her back into it. More than. She was breathing heavier now. She was nearly there.

Zanrye could try to finish too, if he could think back to when he'd bedded Lilazi, something he'd done not even a year ago. That might get him there eventually…but also take more time.

She let out a high moan with her orgasm and then collapsed more so into the bed—if such a thing were possible. Zanrye let her gasp for breath for a few seconds before he let go of her and stood up from the bed, removing his wrap and tossing it into a nearby trash. She turned over and laid there, naked and pretty and in a dreamy state.

"You're not going to stay?" She asked him as he reached for his smallclothes. Already, his erection was softening, due to be gone in the next 10-15 minutes.

"Can't." He told her, not making eye contact. "I already promised Kaynala I'd fix the equipment I ruined. And then Po and I have to start packing down the stores." It was only half a lie.

"Okay." She said, her light brown hair falling over her back as she sat up lazily. "I'll miss you."

"Me too." Zanrye said noncommittedly. He finally pulled his tunic on and grabbed his overshirt. He walked over to the side of the bed, still never quite making eye contact with her, and kissed the edge of her mouth before he walked out of the house.

He inhaled deeply as he did, leaving her house for his own. He should probably at least help Kaynala since that's what he said he was going to do. He made the seven minute trek there, seeing the languid day carry on as people were savoring the area before the move. He saw that his door was open and rolled his eyes as he walked in.

"Po, how many times do I have to say close my door? Bugs love it in here this season." He scolded the man sitting in a chair drinking lemonade. Po shrugged, his hair short now and posture somewhat lazy.

"Maybe another thousand." He laughed, standing up. He set his glass down on the counter as Zanrye moved the vinescreen to his entrance. Po made a move to punch him which Zanrye barely sidestepped. With a chuckle, the man continued the play-fight. Zan shrugged out of Ponawen's grip as the man took him into both arms in a lock from behind.

"Come on." Zanrye said, getting out. Ponawen's eyebrow cocked as he went back toward the counter, lazily, where his lemonade rested. He gestured to another cup and the pitcher.

"What have you been doing; why're you stiff?" He asked as he drank of his own cup, his face confused. Zanrye came to get a glass, adjusting himself best as he could.

"Been at Rina's." he explained, standing at the counterspace as Po sat again. "Hasn't gone away yet." The older man shook his head.

"You could ask her to suck you after." he said.

"I could." Zanrye replied, choosing to stand instead. "She isn't very good at it, though. And she doesn't really want to—with the way we fuck, I don't really feel like having her do it either."

"Y'know, if you would just toss her, you could go and fuck someone who can actually chop your wood." Po said with a laugh. Always laughing. Always un-seriously serious.

"Sometimes I wonder how your mouth doesn't get you more hate." Zanrye said but he had to laugh at the comment.

"You're a gentler heart." Po said evenly but his shit-eating grin was still there. "Besides, you don't like this woman enough to put up with bad sex, Rye. We both know it. She knows it though she pretends not to—leech."

"I don't have time for your whorish advice." Zanrye replied, exasperated but not without a smile. "I have to go to Kaynala's."

"Rye…it's a nice day out. I'm here to take you into town for Keeper." Ponawen said. "Wants us to get specific fruits before we leave in a few days time. And we can have some fun while we're there—you and me. And maybe a whore or two."

"I told Kirina I'd be at Kaynala's." Zanrye told the man. "I don't want to argue with her today about not being where I said I'd be."

"You'll be doing work." Ponawen said with mock sternness. "And it's for Keeper. She trumps 'Nala. If it makes you feel better, you'd only be half-lying then." Zanrye smirked. "Come on Rye. I'm not going to let you do hard labor when it's so nice out today."

Zanrye didn't respond, just turned and put his glass in the bin for cleaning. That was his deference to Ponawen's instruction. The older man began their walk outside but still spoke.

"But I'm serious…" He said with a not-at-all-serious tone. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: I understand she's your first woman—but you don't have to naively stay with her. Either you need to find someone else or tell her how you want to steer this boat."

"I have." Zanrye sighed, following the path out towards the western edge of the forest. "It's not like we haven't tried things 'my way.'"

"But you keep doing things her way." Ponawen said knowingly. "Have you even squirted with her at all? Recently?" He shakes his head at Zanrye's silence. "If you two can't hold comradery, the least you could do is hold a good fuck."

"Creators Po." Zanrye was chuckling now, keeping pace as they went further into the forest. "You keep talking like that and I'll tell have to ask Denosa how she does it."

"More like ask her how I do." Ponawen said, wrapping an arm around Zanrye. "And don't worry—if Rina keeps you dry for too long, I'll personally offer myself to you to save you from dehydration." He squeezed him tight, grinning. "That's what real friends do."

He barely dodged the low punch Zanrye aimed at him and led him on a chase, laughing, all the way to the neighboring town.

* * *

PRESENT

HINTERLANDS

This was on their agenda but not so soon. No sooner had they located and set a date to deal with the Dalish elves in the Oasis (more like talk to them) than there was news of the Hinterlands—only area yet where the Inquisition had been firmly rooted—being attacked by the last remaining rogue Templars and where there was news of more Warden sightings.

They made it to the Hinterlands two days after they had set out on their trip. Most of the time there was spent talking to the Corporal and re-securing the farm and the camps and having a chat with King Alistair, who sent them on a task of his own—which Josephine accepted for them, to honor their lasting friendship or something. Either way, it sent he and Josephine deep into Hinterlands, past the very territory where there were the remaining Templar sightings and rebel mage outbreaks.

And as luck would have it, the carriage lost two wheels by a stray blast of energy. It shuddered and crashed to the ground, thankfully not toppling over. Josephine cried out and Zanrye instantly reached for his sword. He stood up in the forward-sloping carriage and took her by the hand to help her forward as well. His senses were heightened. He climbed out, seeing that the driver had been injured and had his bow and arrow cocked. One of the two horses was also injured—but far more badly. It probably would not make it.

"Oh…oh no…." Josephine said quietly as they passed it. Zanrye gazed at it and then the driver who awaited his orders. He looked to see the fight between the mage and the two Templars still raging. Just a few months ago, it would have been a whole legion on either side.

"Josephine, wait on the other side of the carriage." He said bluntly. "Don't come out in case another blast goes astray." Josephine didn't need to be told twice and she left to the other side as Zanrye and the driver neared the trio. So immersed in their battle, they didn't see them until it was too late and Zanrye's blade cut through the Templar without a shield first, pulling out to swing and hit the other one's shield full in the front. The driver launched an arrow straight through the mage's head and he went down quietly. Zanrye dodged the Templars swings, taking nonfatal cuts to his chainmail every now and again before he managed to slow him enough to target the weak spot right near the side and end the man. He sighed after it was done. Another distraction, another time-consuming event. This was supposed to be their time alone, he remembered. Instead, it turned out to really be a business trip—a bloody one.

He went to retrieve Josephine and then ordered the driver to take the weak horse back to the King and tell him of what happened and that the Inquisitor chose to keep on to the destination. They were delivering a letter with vital information about Ferelden and the Inquisition's position together.

"But—Inquisitor." Josephine said to him as the driver reluctantly carried out his orders, unstrapping the horses. "We're…to walk? The rest of the way?"

"Of course not." Zanrye said simply, his irritation at the events ebbing. He walked to the spooked by healthy horse and grabbed his saddle to still him. He turned to Josephine. "We're going to ride the rest of the way."

"On…one horse?" She asked. Zanrye simply nodded and then paused.

"You do know how to ride?" He asked her. "Or if you don't—"

"I do not ride well." Josephine admitted. "But I am steady on it, I assure you."

"Well even so, I'll be steering." Zanrye said. "But you'll be leading with the directions of the area. You remembered them better probably." He held out his hand to her. She hesitated and then took it and let him help her up onto the horse. She sat on it and seemed a little shaky as she did so, her voice becoming flustered.

The emotions suppressed by his irritation came back to Zanrye as he saw her like so. He smiled up at her and then felt the nervousness touch him as well—but for different reasons. He was going to share her horse and…he was going to…ride behind her.

The position was not inherently an intimate one. But given the context….

He hesitated but a second, pretending that it was him letting her get adjusted on the horse. But his mind full of insecurities would not let him rest. He gazed up slowly, seeing her hovering above him, straightening her back as she adjusted—regal and delicate at the same time. So tall on the horse…and he would be behind her….

He knew he was small by shem standards. There was no other way to say it. He was as thin as her—maybe even thinner when speaking of hips and breast area. He was just her height, he knew, but not always. He was the exact opposite of what women like her would probably want. They wanted Cullen, muscles big and rippling—not compactly thin and lean….

 _Creators_ , Zan thought, panic filling him as she looked down towards him, his eyes darting away, _what if I'm…what if my…?_

Surely she had been with men before. And as with everything else, what if the shems she'd been with were…bigger than him? By a lot? What if she thought he was small?

He stopped himself in an instant, returning the smile she gave him as she gazed down at him with an "I'm ready to go" type of look. He was panicking and he was getting ahead of himself. She wouldn't even feel him through the armor and things. And this was no time to think of that anyhow… _But you're going to think of it anyway_

He slowly climbed up, swinging his legs on either side of the horse as quickly as he could. He was taller than her especially with the slope of the horse back. He placed his feet in the stirrups and wrapped his arms around her body to grab the reigns.

And it felt very, very good.

He couldn't think for a moment, taking in how they adjusted to accommodate the other without quite pressing into each other. She was nervous…she was still slightly shaky. He could feel it in her shoulders. Zanrye felt the crazy urge to pull her to him and cease the shaking but he knew he wouldn't. And shouldn't.

He snapped the reigns and they set off at a trot, which forced the distance between them to close unless Josephine wanted to bounce precariously. She slowly but surely leaned her body back into his and Zanrye's chest felt very warm, warmer even than his face. He kept them at their pace and tried not to let himself get too into it—armor or no, he didn't want to offend her with his bodily responses. Certainly not over a horse ride.

But it was also something about being in the forests and around hills and trees and valleys of different color and texture—all which the Hinterlands offered. It made him feel his fear and his shame less intensely. He felt…better…about his emotions. Even his perverted mind that kept noticing how her hair smelled or how deep her breathing was…she was nervous too…. For some reason, he found less will to squash the feelings, write them off, or stutter them into being. That was present…but not as strong as the pleasure he was taking in this.

As they got closer via her instructions, he noticed they were past the eastern river and would be reaching the sloping areas soon. He knew there'd be hills, even cliffs.

And then he was filled with so much unaccounted-for confidence that he even surprised himself when his arms tightened around her shoulders slightly and his mouth was near her ear, asking, "Do you want to do something fun?"

He felt her shiver and he thought that might be the end for him; he fought to keep his face straight and body unmoved. She spoke out ahead of them but to him.

"What—did you have in mind?" She asked. Zanrye looked out at the expansive green, rolling hills and felt the urge overcome him. And he also felt the urge…to share it with her… desperately. Shem, woman, danger, pleasure, whatever she was. He wanted this for her.

"You can't be afraid." Zanrye replied, not quite answering the question. Josephine was more afraid now that he'd said that he realized but that made him laugh, which he did. Josephine looked scared but intrigued back at him. Her face was very close and her brown-hazley eyes were bright. After a time, she finally said, "All right then" and turned back to face the front.

He steadied the reigns before them and then hesitated but a second before he slowly but firmly placed a hand under one of her thighs. He could feel how tense she was and did not make eye contact with her, knowing his cheeks probably showed how much they burned and moved her leg into the stirrup, placing one of her feet over his own. He did the same to the other. Josephine was getting scared he knew. Just like he had. He tightened his grip on the reigns and directed the horse farther east. He inhaled deeply.

"You may want to hold onto me." He advised her, an oddly proud feeling coming to him as he spoke the words. And she did, softly, her hands resting on his knees. As soon as she seemed settled, Zanrye took off.

Josephine yelped as they shot up the rolling, green hills littered with flowers, sprinting past with the horse galloping like it was in a race. Zanrye kept the speed, feeling the wind rushing and the gravel underneath the horse's hooves. His excitement was near palpable. Josephine's grip on him became tighter now and one hand reached back to clutch his side. Zanrye tightened his arms around her side to calm her, the horse gathering yet more speed and climbing higher.

"Zan—" Josephine's warning died as she quaked. Zanrye did not answer. They were nearly there. They were ready. It was time.

"Don't be scared!" Zanrye yelled to her over the rushing as the edge of the hill loomed. She did not answer as the edge came into view. And when they reached it and jumped out from over it, she cried out briefly.

They floated. They flew. Zanrye's body ascended into the vast order that was the Hinterlands as the solid ground left them and the horse and then it was the weightlessness once more. He felt his stomach turn twice, his eyes taking in just how high up the cliff had been from another risen platform of grass before they shot down onto it and he was grounded again. The feeling jolted him but would only last a second before another jump came. This one made Josephine scream a bit longer and Zanrye laugh a bit harder as they kept on in this way, bouncing and traveling and rushing until the hills became more sloping than steep. The horse eventually came to a trot.

And when it did, Josephine was panting heavily, gasping for breath. As was Zanrye. He breathed deep and waited a time before asking her if she was alright. They still trotted.

And at this, Josephine laughed. She swept a shaky hand through her windswept hair and kept laughing until she could settle back into giggles.

"That was horrible." She concluded but the two continued to laugh at it and her reaction. More than horrible, it was enjoyable…the horrible part was only the fear—and the risk.

* * *

10 YEARS EALIER

They'd moved to the Green Dales, back to the Anitvan area in just two weeks time. Zanrye liked it here. They all knew he liked it here. That's what caused them all—when houses were done being set up—to get some fine antivan brandy and gather round in the forest, by a bonfire, and get drunk. Their musician friends, which included Kayanla, played lute and harp and drums, and sung aloud, alternating. Zanrye felt nice, downing his glass in a matter of twenty minutes. Then his second glass ten minutes later.

It was a warm evening, with the sun still in the sky even if barely. It was a blue—red—orange sky that fell over them and lighted their path. Their celebration. Though only a few of the young adults had come, it felt like the entire camp was here.

Kirina sat near to him and laughed and joked with all around her. Zanrye found himself contemplating her. It had been only three weeks since Ponawen had given him a talk about leaving her yet again. But was that really the right response to hardship in a relationship? To leave just because things weren't quite what you thought? Because this relationship started as let's see where this goes and turned into a lot more work and grief than he'd bargained for?

He'd never seen a romance end—not a committed one. His parents had stayed together. So had Po's. Nishia never took boyfriends so much as sex buddies and Po acted like a kid, changing "bed-friends" left and right. That wasn't what a man would do.

But at the same time…was it really better to leave the relationship like this when they argued more than laughed and couldn't reach the intimacy that Zanrye desired—sexual and romantic? Rina might get some but she was getting it with less than half of Zanrye's heart being into it.

He didn't let that trouble him for too long however. This was a party. He heard a particularly fast song and so he stood up, the people around drunkenly cheering him. The flames warmed the area and he sauntered over to Nishia. She shook her head but he stood his ground. She had to smile, her braided hair tied into a crowned piece. She happened to be wearing a longer shirt today over her thin trousers, making it appear more dress-like. After he kept his hand brandished, she took it and he pulled her into a step.

"Get her done!" Po cried and a laugh swept through the party as Zanrye danced with Nishia, spinning her and twisting her as she reluctantly but surely joined in. It was a very good time indeed. When more joined and Nishia's latest puppydog came for her hands, Zanrye found his partner replaced with Lana, then Lilazi, then Denosa, whom he held close while he shot mockingly evil looks at Po who play-charged through them. Soon, it was his own girl, Rina, in his arms and it didn't feel at all negative. She danced with him and he with her and the others all danced around them for nearly an hour.

When the music changed to something more languid, she pressed her body close to his and he was grateful for it, holding her waist as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

When she whispered that she wanted to go to his house because it was getting late, Zanrye actually felt excited for it. He wrapped an arm around her and they headed off with Ponawen drawing attention to it. Zanrye shouted back profanities but they headed out all the same. She cuddled in close to him and he suddenly felt more attracted to her than he had in months (and they had only been dating for the past 7).

They entered his house quietly. He had only gotten his own home recently at that—two months into their dating in fact, when he had been 21 for short time. His was simple but decorative, with herbs on the tables and trinkets here and there. He took her into his arms and kissed her deeply and she submitted to it, letting him put his hands in her hair and hold her to him.

He led her to the bed, kissing her ears and her neck softly. Her shirt came off as well as her tights and she sat on the bed as he removed his own clothes. He got past his shirt when she scooted back and, overcome with their synced momentum, he climbed on top of her, kissing her mouth hard and then trailing his lips down her body to her smallclothes bottoms, pressing his cheek against her through the fabric. His heart was beating fast, he was so excited. She also didn't care for getting sucked as much as she didn't care for doing the sucking, he knew (though not for his lack of skill at it; he'd learned the art well). But now she made no protest as he stripped away the fabric and pressed his tongue to her.

He removed his own pants as he did so, keeping one arm hooked under her ass to hold her steady. She gave her soft moans but was making slow movements for them to change. Compromise.

Zanrye almost forgot his wrap as she distracted him with kissing and touching and little moans beneath him. But when he found it and put it on, he entered her with flourish, kissing her as he did so. This was how he wanted it—where he could kiss her and feel her legs around him. Where he could touch her hair, not pull it. Where he could press their bodies together whenever he wished, feel her against his torso. This was sex that took him closer and closer to the edge.

But another change was indeed coming as she slowly edged for them to slow to a stop. He did stop for a moment and she took her chance to sit up and turn around, offering her ass to him. He paused but a second before he re-entered her from the back. He was disappointed but not upset. Compromise. She needed to spend herself too.

And spend herself she did but this time, Zanrye was far enough along from the beginning to take just a few more minutes to spend himself as well. They laid on the bed afterwards, her lying on his chest and him looking towards the ceiling. His drunkenness was leaving; he contemplated the day and the move and the way this place felt right—when he heard the words leave her mouth.

He froze, his eyes widening and body stiffening—not his penis. And he suddenly felt the world narrow back into perspective—no rosy brandy or sunsets to make him envision it differently. The seconds went by as the naked woman beside him waited for him to speak and Zanrye felt less attracted to her than he ever had before.

* * *

PRESENT

HINTERLANDS

They rode from the pickup place with an official document which Josephine kept close. They offered a second horse but Josephine was fine with sharing. Zanrye and she had cozied up to each other and the conversations kept on as they strolled back to Redcliffe.

"…truly appreciate it until I left." She finished. "To know that you think of it like you do…"

"The place always held something for me." Zanrye reasoned. "And since we could never stay in one place, going back whenever we did…was good for me. Made me fonder of it."

"I suppose when one is born in Antiva…it is hard to rid yourself of its calling." Josephine said softly. "And it's true I never did hear the same elf propaganda there…."

"I'm sure it existed." Zanrye said. "But no…it wasn't as rampant. Too many city elves."

"I've always wondered…why the vehemence." She said. Paused. "Too many times, there are stories of wild elves…when all the violence seen is against the elves…."

"Fear and power." Zanrye reasoned but he felt his hate stirring, as well as…appreciation. Everything that came out of this woman's mouth threatened to have him call her nothing but an exception to the world of shems. "They think we're savage…or just different."

"But savagery is the opposite of writing and government and language." Josephine shook her head. "From what you've told me…and what I know…it seems a far stretch to place such titles on this group of people."

"That's where power comes into play." Zanrye said.

"But the assertion is feeble.' Josephine continued. "If this had been a part of the game, the humans who started such labels would have been uprooted and scandalized before they had even acquired any power…" She sighed. "It's not just detestable…but sloppy."

Zanrye said nothing but wanted the matter to drop. He let the moments tick on before he finally spoke once more.

"I think there could be understanding…if people wanted it." He said loosely. He hesitated. "There's so much elven culture that I don't know…that I would kill to know…. Humans do not see the worth in it. But then there are years of war where humans decided our culture was not worthy of much notice or preservation."

"But it is." Josephine said, her voice soft again. "Even the things you tell me, Zanrye…it is so intricate. And dense. You make it all…sound…sound idyllic. It sounds wonderful. And beautiful. How you can be cast in such shadow and labeled as savage…ugly…is incredible."

"Well there are a few humans who have fetishes. I guess some think we're… "honorable," "beautiful."" He said, his tone slightly dark.

"And you are." Josephine said. "And not just to a subset of those with hidden fantasies.

There was an odd silence after her words. Zanrye took a moment to process them. _You're beautiful to her_. The thought had Zanrye smile but nervously. Josephine seemed to realize the direction of her words and she did not speak for a moment. Zanrye paused longer.

"I think you're beautiful as well." He said with an even tone.

"Oh! Well…I…you're much too kind, Inquisitor." She stuttered out. Zanrye's ears prickled. He did not speak for another moment, just let it be there, let their ride continue. Her hair was to his face and her back rested on his chest. Their bottoms had come closer together since their initial takeoff. Zanrye felt shy but good at having said it…and hearing it. His insecurities from before seemed to have called for this admittance on both their parts.

 _She's so…wonderful_. There wasn't another way to say it. Zanrye subtly (probably not so subtly) wrapped his arms tighter around her as they headed for the carriage to the next destination.

* * *

10 YEARS EARLIER

"And then what?" Po asked Zanrye, who'd come to his house in the middle of the night after the argument with Rina. He had poured the man some tea and Zan'd rambled for minutes on end, dressed haphazardly and looking into his cup. Nishia sat to the side as well, listening. An intervention had been called.

"Then…I told her that it would never be what she wanted it to be." Zanrye forced out. "And I said…that…we should end it."

Po's laughter made Zanrye bristle but it was to be expected. The man chortled.

"Right after a romp." He shook his head.

"Did she ask you to stay?" Nishia asked, ignoring Po, her eyes plain.

"Yeah." Zanrye sighed. "Asked me…to try…for us." He wrinkled his forehead. "I couldn't. I told her…there was nothing…"

"Nothing to try for." Nishia finished or him. Zanrye drank his tea, sighing. She had cried a lot. After the silence, she had scoffed and turned to the ceiling as well, tears in her eyes. He had sat up and rubbed his own in frustration. She told him not to speak but he did. He told her: "This isn't the right relationship Karina." She had sharply looked at him, shocked. He'd not been able to stop: he didn't love her, he didn't feel happy, he didn't get off, he didn't see much more merit to this relationship. That's when her pleas had come. They hurt him—they really did. He didn't want her to be sad, to beg. But what was she begging for? For someone to tolerate her enough where she could be able to have comfort and squirts? Was that all she wanted?

"Well." Po said finally. "You did good."

"I feel awful." Zanrye said softly.

"That's because it's your first time." Po shrugged.

"It's alright to feel bad." Nishia said. "She didn't want things to end. But you also can't stay feeling bad. You did the right thing. You and she deserve different things. You especially deserve better."

"She begged me to stay—to see her side…." Zanrye said hollowly. He could barely believe it. "I didn't think she'd…do that."

"She got more out of the relationship than you did." Nishia said bluntly. "It's only right that she wants to hold onto you."

"Leech." Po reminded.

"You aren't compatible." Nishia said finally. She looked dead in his face. "You will be able to put this in perspective after you're through the storm. This is your first break-up. It's only natural that you have mixed feelings. The one thing neither of us will tolerate," she glanced at Po, "is you returning to her."

"Oh definitely not." Po scoffed. "No matter what, you need to let that die."

"No going back." Nishia said firmly. "You made the right decision and you will see that one day but for now, you can't afford to give in to her guilt."

"I guess." Zanrye said quietly. He looked up at them—like a baby looked at parents. "You'll… help me through this then, yeah?"

"Of course we will." Nishia said bluntly. "You won't have to fret too much more. You did the hardest part. And now that we are here, we'll see you through this."

"I'll even let you chop my favorite whore down at the inn." Po smiled.

"We just got here." Nishia shot at him. "You already have a favorite?"

"Appetite's large." Po explained. "And don't say yours isn't." He grinned at Zanrye. "Your mother here tries to pretend she doesn't cheat on me, but she does. With at least two a week."

"I'll go prepare a bed." Nishia stood. "If you're done talking out your ass, get Zanrye ready for bed and then get him to the room. You get the floor tonight. Rye can sleep with me."

"It's my house!" Po said.

"And you aren't very good at the art of seriousness so you get the floor." Nishia said simply. She left the room and Po turned his gaze to Zanrye.

"Such attitude." He said. "You'd think she was one who went through a breakup." He got up as well and clapped Zan's shoulder. "No matter what happens, we're here for you." The brief moment of intensity passed with Po's grin after. "Whimpering fool…."

* * *

PRESENT

EN ROUTE TO SKYHOLD

As soon as they reached Redcliffe, the raven had come and ended their journey prematurely. But not at a bad time. They needed to head back to save Cassandra from the sea of unexpected visitors. The carriage ride was quiet but the pressure in the air was not malicious or negative. It was warm…awkward…and warm.

Josephine fell asleep halfway there, the sky dark outside and the gently rhythm putting her to sleep. Zanrye watched her, seeing how her mouth hung ever so slightly open and how her hands curled inwards. She had fallen over, having slumped onto the side and her body continued to slide. She was horizontal on the seat. Zanrye was mere feet away. The events of before had only served to increase his emotions. He liked her, and it was becoming clear. And it was also clear he could act on this. The question still hung—should he? He didn't want to answer that question though. He just wanted…

He turned his eyes again toward her beautiful figure. How in the world had she been born to the shems? She was a woman with all the beliefs, love, and personality to be an elf through and through. She was a person…a good person….

He closed his own eyes, but all he could do was imagine himself and Josephine replaying the events in the same fashion and even in others. This woman made him feel like no other had—ever. She was majestic and beautifully soft with a stable look about her.

She was sound asleep next to him and he could fantasize all he liked. But with respect of her presence. She was a "courtly" lady—one with whom he realized he had to play a game. Not one of challenging and hiding his feelings…but a knightly quest. To prove that he was worthy of someone like her.

It was on odd thought—to prove he was worthy to a shem. But she was so much more than that. So much more. He kept realizing that time and again. Nishia said there were no exceptions and true there weren't…and that made him all the more confused about their respective places here.

In another life…she may have been a city elf…who had an ear disfigurement…who would be waving a fan before her face, blushing as he whisked her onto horse and they galloped out into the unmarked valley. He would keep one hand right around her torso protectively, the other on the reigns. And when they got to the destination, he'd help her down and wrap her up in his arms as she whispered his name. Down they'd go to the ground and he'd put her on her back, lips in her neck, ready to rock her world with the experience he was going to give her. He'd lick from the base of her to the hard jewel between her legs, working his tongue at it until she was crying for him to stop _but don't stop_. And then he'd go slow at first, then steady, like he was swimming. They'd hold on until she didn't have any energy left. And when he was done, he'd hold her in his arms, tucked protectively to his chest, rocking her to sleep.

Her movement drew his eyes open and once again to her as she raised her legs up to the seat, getting more comfortable. She was still asleep. Zanrye gazed at her and then felt the tiredness coming to him as well. He ruminated on the day once more, finding that each time he did, he couldn't believe that he had been so brave. And so foolish.

The threat in Orlais and from Corypheus came to mind then and he began to wonder where the place was for things like this, these romantic antics, in a world fighting destruction.

He didn't have an answer.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

Right before wicked minds, wicked hearts. Before meeting Hawke as well and before meeting the trainers. We end with all of this on the horizon.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

The mention of the Dalish at the Oasis has not been handled. Neither has the exploration of the Emerald Graves obviously.

Josephine's view on how elves are treated in Antiva is more or less lore driven. In the city-city, anyone is anyone. But among what could be called antivan nobility, there is indeed a hierarchy where elves are shit

In case you forgot, Zanrye was born in an Antivan region

Back Story Chronology Reminder: 11ya (20), he'd been deemed a hero and had slept with Lilazi. Shortly after that, he'd begun to date Kirina and this relationship overlapped into the 10ya (21) age. It is after the breakup and near the end of the 10ya (age 21) that Zanrye also loses his step-father [the last remaining parent he has]. He loses him shortly after he gets his own place too.

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Nishia- (girl) best friend

Ponawen- (boy, deceased) best friend, buried

Lana- (girl) keeper's second, good friend of Zanrye. Gone now

Kaynala- (girl) hunter, musician, good friend of Zanrye

Mima- (girl) younger sister by five years

Kirina- (girl) Zanrye's first real girlfriend

Lilazi- (girl) scout who Zanrye hooked up with


	9. Codes of Conduct

SKYHOLD

"And remember Inquisitor, they need to speak to you by this time next week."

"Can you look at the lower courtyard repairs when you have the time?"

"Are we going to install a Chantry in the garden? As the Herald of Andraste…"

Zanrye was realizing more and more why the human Kings and Queens typically went grey sooner than their age warranted. In running the Inquisition just a month or two officially, he had been buried in more requests and had to keep track of more things than he ever had before. It was like what Keeper did multiplied by 100 different clans, and then having to worry about other Clan groups in the area.

Ferelden was more or less cooperating with the Inquisition since they'd driven out the mages and Templars from their area, stopped Alexius and his venatori and Tevinter allies, and was the greatest hope to stopping the threat as of yet.

Orlais was another matter entirely but still just as important. With Celene and her cousin Gaspard going at it that way they were still, Orlais might not hold. But there was going to be an assignation attempt. Their sources had said as much. And now they had gotten Gaspard to formally invite them. It was only a matter of finding the assassin and restoring balance to prepare for Corypheus. While Zanrye couldn't care less about Orlesian politics, he knew they needed all the help they could get. They had the mages and those spurned by the wars, and more or less had Ferelden's support. Yet they did not have Orlais and with the area so large and critical…its collapse would, like Josephine was stressing, devastate millions and leave everyone running around like chickens with their head cut off.

Zanrye knew all this. Josephine did not look as he did however when she came into his office this night, though she worked with him each step except for those he took out on the field. The information overload and political status quo he suffered from did not affect her the same way. She came with no parchment thank the Creators but came bearing gifts of a hot drink instead.

"Are you almost to the 150 mark, Inquisitor?" She asked him, holding the drink as she stood over him and observed him writing responses to yet another Noble, after responding to a Teyrn previously.

"Nearly…." Zanrye sighed, rubbing his eyes; he sat and flexed the kinks out that were forming.

"The end point is in sight." She said. "That should be able to hold off the direct responses needed until you return from the Oasis in the Western Approach." She paused, "Though…I still would advise you to make an appearance perhaps before those within Skyhold…put a face to a title."

"I don't know if that's possible still—or needed." Zanrye sighed and looked up at the cup. He paused. "I smell cocoa."

"You are right." Josephine smiled down at him and rested the cup on the desk. It was filled with the dark liquid. It was diluted, boiled, and thinned to make it into a drink, milk and water added.

"Drinks for Kings." Zanrye sighed into it.

"For Inquisitors." Josephine joked. Zanrye smirked up at her and thought on what she proposed with the public address. Things had been pleasant between the two of them. Though nothing had taken place since their "date," Zanrye had felt odd about making anything else happen. His boldness seemed to have left him like liquid courage leaving as the buzz wore off. He was content with letting things rest as they were. He didn't have much to give as of now. After his initial admittance to himself and Nishia, he had been almost reckless.

Now, though he didn't feel unsure, he still couldn't shake the shame and the fear of slipping down this path. "There are no exceptions." No, there weren't. And the way Josephine felt to him was like she was trying to be the challenge to that truth—like she was somehow trying to undermine it and drag Zanrye's mind away from what was right and just. She was not a temptress, he knew, but their positions and his unwarranted fascination and affection for her proved that she did not need to embody one to be one for him. Elves wiser than him in many of Po's stories had been duped by shems who were friendly, peaceful, or alluring. Josephine was proving to be all three of those things and was trying to nest into Zanrye mind….

He needed more than a moment to wrestle things back into place.

Zanrye answered her finally, "I'm going to see what I can do before I leave. And I might even do it when I return. Hopefully Varric's visitor will be here by then or he might not arrive before the peace talks."

"Do you not know anything of Hawke at all, Inquisitor?" She asked, doubtfully. "He was the hero of Kirkwall and key in the events of the mage-templar war—"

"I never really cared about it before now, or had to care," Zanrye shrugged, "It was all just more tales of shems trying to take each other out—"

Zanrye paused. There was a quick silence. That kept happening as well. He used to be so careful around them before, careful to not incite anger or to be overly showy of his distastes. He was cool and aloof. But now…especially since they'd gotten closer—and frequently in stressful situations—he'd slip. He shouldn't consider it slipping he knew but seeing the tenseness in her neck made him regret saying it, even though it was natural, even correct, for him to call a shem what he (or she) was: a shem.

"Well, I'll see about it," Zanrye said quickly, placing the mug down. "I'll have to get your information about all that when we have the time."

As if he were a guardian, Solas stepped up to the open door. He stood there, leaning against it, waiting for the conversation to reach a certain point. Josephine saw him and took her chance to leave. Zanrye sighed as she did and beckoned Solas in. The mage took a seat before the desk.

"Good news Solas?" Zanrye smirked.

"Good advice." Solas corrected. "It would not be wise for you to make any appearance before the camp unless need be. Such a thing would only draw unneeded attention to you and reveal your identity to those within our ranks who are not in fact completely loyal to our cause."

"You think they are many?" Zanrye asked.

"I think one is one too many.' Solas responded. Zanrye nodded to him, signing his 148th paper.

"Then I won't." He responded. "I understand enough to not do that I suppose."

"Another thing." Solas kept on. "We are to travel to the Oasis soon…I would request that I be a part of that group to accompany you there."

"You're always chosen to be in my team." Zanrye said, eyeing him. "You know this."

"I have a request to also be a part of your dealings with the Dalish there." Solas replied. Zanrye eyed him for a moment.

"Why? Last I heard from you, you didn't have the best feelings towards the Dalish as a whole." Zanrye said blandly. "And you choose favorites between clans."

"Let's just say your and Nishia's influence has made me interested in this one." Solas said. Zanrye just looked at him for a long time before Solas scoffed and continued, "There are many powerful elven artifacts in the area, some I would suspect have been unearthed by the Dalish. I simply wish to know more about these."

"Why didn't you just say that?" Zanrye asked him, incredulously. "If there are artifacts, don't you think I would also like to see them?"

"I suspect you would." Solas shrugged. "But these artifacts are very old, accessible in their truest form by way of the Fade; and some may be hidden away by this clan if they did find them as well and it'd be best to not resort to stealing the artifacts necessarily." Zanrye understood now.

"So you want me to give you permission to snoop and sneak." He said to the older man, shaking his head. "On a fellow Dalish clan no less. For your magey purposes." He kept his gaze on him. "Elvhen enfanima. Is that what you want? You're flat-ear so they may anyway but…."

"I've no desire for them to fear or mistrust me—us." Solas said. "But if an understanding is not reached, I would then take what information they cannot access—or would hide from us."

"Mala taren aravas." Zanrye did not let up, his gaze hard, telling Solas his mind was in the clouds, focusing on the wrong things. Solas's mouth was a thin line before he finally sighed.

"I would not do anything to act against your plans, Zan." He said slowly. "But if we could at least make attempt…."

"An attempt to look into their artifacts would not be bad." Zanrye said bluntly. "But don't go asking for trouble with them. They could be allies and they are our people—two things you know as well as I." Solas nodded ever so slightly, looking away. He seemed to have at least a tad bit of remorse for instantly suggesting subterfuge so Zanrye relented. "Me nuvenin." He said and he saw Solas's eyes light up at his indulgence. "But we only go about it as you say if they do not already share with us first—or if they prove to be hostile."

Solas's smile was full of contemplation. He looked at him with eyes that knew too much and had too much compassion. Like a cousin…or a friend. It was very un-Solas-like.

"I should leave you to finish then." Solas said.

"Or you could write the last for me. It's all pleasantness and punctuality." Zanrye replied. Solas had to smirk as he shook his head in refusal. Zanrye leaned back over his work as Solas stood. Only two more to go….

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS

Zanrye, Cassandra, Solas, and Vivienne took the caravan to the Oasis. It was blistering hot as soon as they stepped out, just like before. Zanrye had prepared for that. And he had advised the others to do the same, donning the lightweight armor and the tunics made of the thin fabric designed to let any and all drafts get through to cool them down.

They were greeted by Harding as usual but received little to no information on the clan they were to actually meet, except for the invitation for the Inquisitor himself.

"Is it because of your shared race?" Cassandra asked him when they set out again, this time on horses rather than within a carriage.

"Most likely." Zanrye replied. "They wouldn't trust our scouts perhaps but it's odd they didn't trust Harding either. Dwarves aren't favored but they certainly aren't mistrusted in the way that humans are."

"Something must be happening." Cassandra said. "Perhaps they need help…perhaps this is a trap. Whatever the case, we need to secure the area anyhow."

"What do you think about the shards?" He asked her. They had collected two at the Hinterlands, not able to fully collect all there was no doubt. There were rumors of more of them here in the Approach but they had yet to spot one outside of the four or so that Harding had given them when they set off. He'd asked Solas about them to no avail.

"Just a few weeks ago, I would think they were best left where they laid." Cassandra said. "Now …especially since discovering Corypheus is a magister…I think these magical shards worth investigating."

"What do you think they build? Or unlock? Or lead to?" He asked.

"My best guess is something else old." Cassandra said. "But anything that was locked has some relevance to that time I suppose. And as we have nothing to do but sit on our hands until the peace talks begin—"

"Speak for yourself." Zanrye said.

"You know what I mean." Cassandra smiled. "Because we don't have any new devices to use against Corypheus as of yet, there is time to investigate the shards. They may even prove useful."

"It's doubtless that they will." Solas chimed in from behind them. He had been arguing as usual with Vivienne the way here but eavesdropped on their conversation.

"You like anything old, Solas." Zanrye said to the man, smirking. "Probably because you're just as old as these shards—using magic to stay young."

Vivienne gave a laugh, brief and poised. Solas said nothing, merely disregarded the jab.

Their path took them through tundras and beneath archways made of compact desert sand and stone. The heat was almost too powerful. Sweat was a constant and Zanrye knew they may use a little more than half their water supply on the way to the meeting.

When they approached an incline with a bit of grass, they were able to see a wagon. More accurately, it was an aravel. Zanrye thanked the Creators to have reached their patron and slowed the horses as the woman stepped out from the shade of the aravel. She was small and skinny, with short hair and a hunters bow at her back. Her eyes were dark. And meant business.

"Andaran atish'an." Zanrye formally greeted her. She eyed the entire group then just looked at Zanrye, her eyes fierce. She spoke fluent elven almost faster than Zanrye could understand.

" **The Inquisitor was the only one invited to come**." She said in elven. Cassandra looked to Zanrye who glanced at his group and then spoke back to her in mostly fluent elven.

" **My group travels with me for protection and practical purposes**." He explained. He paused. " **The two shemlens are required to accompany me**."

" **We do not want shems coming to our dig**." The woman said plainly. Zanrye could feel the heat, this time not from the environment surrounding them. He knew it might not be easy. But he held his ground and kept his cool. They were his people. He could work this.

" **I have need of them in these parts**." Zanrye tried to explain. " **The one beside me is my Second and the one behind her is our shem-mage teacher. I will have need of both for fulfillment of my goals in these areas**."

" **And the flat-ear**?" The woman challenged.

" **I am the Inquisitor's trusted advisor and an elven mage**." Solas spoke up for himself, moving his horse forward—hearing the entire conversation.

" **You are yet another who was uninvited**." The woman said dismissively.

" **I understand your wariness.** " Zanrye said finally. " **But** **you** **should understand that if you do not accept my entourage, you do not accept me either, especially my Second and Advisor who are extensions of myself. But I do not want to cause distrust in anyone of Clan Biloro**." He paused. " **So if you would not accommodate me and my entire team, I will dismiss those who do not have cultural passage.** " He is speaking of the humans. " **It will take time but I can send for elves of similar or equal position instead. But if you cannot make allowances for elves I would substitute…then your regulations have immobilized us**."

The woman said nothing for a long while. Her eyes never changed but Zanrye could tell she was thinking. It felt so much like back when he had encountered other clans and picked up mages back when he was yet with clan Lavellan. And he knew that above all, Dalish at heart could not help but respect thoughtfulness and compromise. It was in their nature to exchange, trade, reach an agreement—whether that be to war with each other or to work together was to be reached through thought towards the future.

" **There is no time to waste**." She said after what seemed like forever. " **The shems may not enter the camp. The flat-ear who speaks elven cannot roam the camp unaccompanied**."

" **I will obey**." Zanrye inclined his head to her.

" **I welcome you, then**." She replied. " **Inquisitor Lavellan**."

* * *

6 YEARS EARLIER

Zanrye spun to strike his attacker's body with his sword, hearing the loud whacking sound that echoed across the field, amongst the anxiously watching audience. He and the other elf circled each other. Each had gotten rid of their armor and most heavy or protective garments, instead adorning simple pant and shirt. Their footwraps were not thick.

The man lunged and Zanrye narrowly avoided a jab into the side but as he swiped where the man's head should have been, he felt the pressure in his thigh and the man's own sword impacted him there. He hopped backwards, trying not to let the man get the advantage but nearly cursing, it hurt so bad. He'd have a bruise there.

The crowd was quiet yet he could feel the anticipation. On one side stood and sat the members of his own clan—required to view the proceedings. It was not all of them but a great many witnesses. The other side held the members of clan Ferilae. They had been the clan occupying this territory around Weisshaupt. They had butted heads with Lavellan time and again and when their different practices clashed too much, it turned to war. They had tried compromise, diplomacy, and more but some issues could not be ignored by Ferilae.

And so they issued the decree: as they had more immediate dead within the area and had longer claim over it, as well as lives, then the newcomer Lavellan's would have to fight for the privilege of using the land alongside them.

Zanrye struck again now, catching his attacker in the middle of the chest and the man trudged through, sticking at Zanrye's intestinal area. Zanrye felt winded and shifted away, bringing his blade down to smack the man in the side of his face, an act which sent the man reeling for a moment or two. Zanrye needed to catch his breath anyway—this was his chance to.

The war between the two clans was an elvhen war. For many Dalish clans save for few exceptions, it was dishonorable-downright unforgivable-to willfully commit murder of a fellow Dalish. There had been times when it was done (for reasons ranging from murder, stealing, or setting another clan up for the shems). But those times were far and few and most adhered to the rules. That's why each slap of blades caused no wound save for bruising. The swords were blunted and made of flexy metalloids. They were designed specifically for these purposes.

When the match was won, the terms set upon by the war would be honored. To not honor them would also be a violation that was potentially punishable by some blood being spilled.

That's why Zanrye could not let himself become winded or let this other man get the advantage on him. This was an ultimatum, something done when no other forms of conflict resolution had succeeded. They could not tolerate the number of mages Lavellan had; they could not tolerate the amount of space Lavellan needed to have without shem presence; they could not tolerate the new amount of hunting for game in the area. So they fought for it.

Zanrye felt the sword hit his back and he ran forward, away from the pain and the second blow to come his way.

Lavellan's terms were simple: they wanted to use the area, keep their mages, and live within reasonable distance from the nearest lake. That made them dozens of miles from the other clan but still within the same region geographically. Their only demands on Clan Ferilae was that Ferilae keep its business with shems at least 30 miles from what would be the communal lake area and around 100 from Lavellan's home camp.

Ferilae, like other Dalish clans, had regular contact with shems. They had come to reach a trade understanding with the small-eared giants and had profited from it with more abundance of fabric and metal. Though Lavellan did go into neighboring towns to buy such, the stock and sometimes even quality of the same goods would not be the same as it would for Ferilae who had an agreement with the shems, giving them things other than simple coin (instead trading pelts and enchanted runes that many Keepers could whip up with their eyes closed).

This was not necessarily an unforgivable or heinous idea at all. Business was business. But this was also still the region near Orlais, however, just below Orlais and Andefel. This was not Antiva or even Ferelden. Shems here were not known for being the most trustworthy or reputable in terms of conducting a truly fair trade. Clan Lavellan would pass on the opportunity to set up some direct trade with them, thank you very much.

Zanrye knew he could get the "killing blow" as soon as the man made a reckless dive—probably thinking the same thing. Zanrye let it hit him in the side so he could swing his sword around and snap hard against the other man's neck. The man could not recover and staggered, grabbing his neck. Zanrye wrestled him to the ground, stood up, and stood over him with blunted sword in his hand. The man looked up and then to the crowd and then back to the victor.

"Dar'enasal." Zanrye spoke down to him, panting. The "referees" from both clans came down and declared it: Zanrye was indeed the victor.

But this was just one round in the different categories of the "war." He had been chosen as one of the champions of the hunters. There were four others, 5 archers, and guards as well. It was nearly like tests of strength and agility, with champions smashing each other and the ultimate winning clan would have their terms adhered to.

Zanrye was directed back to a tent where there were healers and mages all waiting for them—hailing from both the clans, serving all the injured. The war did not compromise ethics.

He laid back on a cot and winced as one healer took Zanrye's cut eyebrow in his rough fingers, grabbing a nearby bowl of heated goo. The man Zanrye had been dueling was set up on a cot across from him. He said nothing as he stared at Zanrye, glowering. Zanrye held his stare, not backing down. There was of course going to be animosity—for a bit.

"Think you made me pull something." The man finally spoke. Zanrye didn't say anything, letting the healer get to work, stitching thread through it. The man across from him had a healer at his side, who went to work on his neck.

"Think you did something to my ribs." Zanrye shot back. The man's eyebrows raised. The healer, too, pondered Zanrye, lifting off his tunic. Indeed, there was a great purple bruise right near the bottom of where his ribcage was—from when he had taken the full extent of the man's blow so he could land a hit on his neck.

The healer touched the area and Zanrye sucked in sharply, wincing.

"We'll summon a mage—see if anything is broken." The healer said, running off to get one. The man said nothing more and Zanrye nursed his side, not offering any words either.

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS

The Keeper of Clan Biloro was a man named Mithlanel. He welcomed in Zanrye and Solas, Cassandra waiting outside with Vivienne in another camp. The Keeper assigned his personal guards to watch them, not only to keep an eye but as a measure of good faith to show Zanrye that no harm would come to them.

He and the Keeper walked through the camp. It was small. They were just an extension of a larger Clan that was separated from them and had probably perished out in the desert. They had been attacked by red Templars and venatori alike. The camp was crudely set up—as if they had just done it within the last week or so.

"The Inquisition would be happy to accommodate you all if you would allow me to send caravans." Zanrye told him.

"That is gracious of you, Lavellan," the Keeper said. "But we cannot leave until our job here is done." He paused. "Our clan died for this."

"For what exactly?" Zanrye asked him. "As far as I can tell, you all are stranded out here."

"We had reason for coming here." The Keeper told him. He sighed. "That's why we requested your presence here. We would like your help…your mark…had allowed you to do the unthinkable we hear. We're hoping for the unthinkable." Zanrye resisted shivering.

"What exactly do you need?" He asked him.

"It would be easier to show you." The Keeper told him. "If you would get ready to move out soon, we'll take you to our operations."

"Alone?" Zanrye asked him. The keeper hesitated and then seemed to consider, his own Second right at his side—a young woman barely as old as Zanrye perhaps. Finally, he replied, "you may take the non-Dalish elf. The others…." He looked pained. "This operation is too important to compromise it with their eyes. I apologize Inquisitor."

"I…understand." Zanrye said slowly. Things had become serious in a matter of minutes. What operation was happening? He could understand the wariness of shems but…even from the Inquisitor?

He went back to his assigned tent and told Solas of the plan. Solas seemed to understand as well and suspected that he was in fact right that they had found something old and magical.

"Do you sense a trap?" Zanrye asked him. Dalish or not, not all clans were trustworthy and this one was far to secret and one-track-minded to not be under scrutiny.

"I do not think so." Solas said. "It seems that they truly need you. I feel it's best to see what they want from us and to see this artifact for ourselves. I may even be able to do something with it."

"Like with my hand." Zanrye said. Solas smiled at that, small and almost embarrassed.

"Yes…like your hand." He said, his face becoming lost in thought. "And since then, you've continued to impress me—with how you use it and how you have come to lead our group."

Zanrye rolled his eyes.

"All I have to do to win you over is save mages and trust magic." Zanrye shot at him. Solas couldn't help but chuckle at that as well.

"I'd like to think it takes more than that." He said. "Or that…it has taken you more than that." His eyes were serious despite his calm face. The way he looked at Zanrye…as if he was testing him…as if he was discerning something neither of them knew….

"I think it's a mixture of a lot of things." Zanrye said simply. "I mean…I think there just needed to be some reconciliation between us…common ground." He stared at the older man. "I think we both needed to accept the differences…and embrace the similarities."

"Those being…?" Solas pressed him. Zanrye's eyes were piercing.

"The fact that we're both men who know we have to do what needs to be done, while preserving as much as we can." He said flatly. "And then reconciling…when our hard choices don't match." Solas just stared at him with an expression that told he was beyond surprised. He inhaled.

"Meeting you, I didn't think I'd come to consider you wise, lethalin." Solas said to him softly. "But time and again, that is only word I can use to describe you."

The words touched Zanrye. When had they become friends? Had they always been? Wise…. Was Solas himself wise? Zanrye could not help but label the elf the same.

"Only?" He said after a moment, voice light. "Not unabashedly Dalish?" Solas laughed again.

"That's on the list for reconciliation." He said and Zanrye had to laugh with him.

In an hour, he had gone to Vivienne and Cassandra, warned them of the impending journey, and instructed them to be ready in case any trouble occurred. Also, if they were not back in a few weeks, come and get them. Cassandra did not want to let him go and he understood her concern. He tried his best to quiet her angry and indignant ranting before he was once more on his horse. The Keeper and an entourage of four were in a small aravel, offering Zanrye a place that he refused. Solas was mounted on a horse behind him, ready. The aravel moved, the night now dark as the sun had set a few hours earlier. Wrapping his head still, Zanrye set off, following Clan Biloro into the desert.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

Travel to the Oasis. Western Approach is also open but this region is closer to Orlais and not necessarily where the rest of the Approach is. Hawke has yet to arrive. They have encountered the Dalish Clan Biloro and Zanrye and Solas go to help them, these potential allies.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

His slipping with Josephine comes as a result (obviously) of his own inability to balance how he feels for her and for shems. But he also cannot reconcile her being shem and attractive woman. He had been Inquisitor for a bit now, still in the fledgling stages though.

The idea for their "proper elvhen war" taken from some of the "family-wars" that would happen between neighboring tribes in ancient Africa where there would be a sort of battle-competition but no bloodshed, pillaging, raping, burning down houses, etc.

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Nishia- (girl) best friend

Keeper Biloro- (boy) old keeper who he follows into the desert

Mima- (girl) younger sister by five years


	10. Dalish Imprint

[APOLOGY: This is also a long one. I promised I wouldn't do this to you guys but couldn't find a good place to divide this one into two separate chapters. Hope the content makes up for the length. (This wc will not be common)]

* * *

OASIS (SOLASLAN)

They had called the previous area leading to their secret the spiral mines, which were winding tunnels decked with ladders and torches which led to an entrance to a remarkable temple. Grey and naturally-colored with a door the shape of a key. The first time he had seen it, Zanrye's breath had been taken away. He was astounded by it, almost able to feel the weight of its history and lack of preservation. It was awesome…looming over them as a grandparent welcoming the young ones. Zanrye was anxious to hear its story. And now he walked through the entrance with four others, his shirt blowing gently as the wind from the ever-running waterfalls hit him.

This temple of Solaslan was marvelous and magical. Zanrye had been at the Oasis for the past two weeks now, collecting shards to get the doors open. As soon as they had made the treacherous journey though the tunnels to here, he had known he would do whatever it took to see what was inside. Though the front outer doors were indeed open, the other rooms were not. That was, until today when three shards had moved the first spirit door, getting it to open for them only to reveal the dangerous as well as reward the risk with runes and gold.

He went to the beautifully clear blue water at the pool and wiped the blood from the giant animals he had killed from himself. So too had he needed to kill wraiths and horrors. They had gotten only so far in and encountered yet another door after the initial spirit door that too needed shards to be opened. Solas had told him that each of the doors meant something—they had gone through spirit. The next set of doors was cold and the last was fire. Zanrye trusted him to know. The temple was his namesake, as it were.

An elven scout came up to him with a bow and offered him a scroll of parchment. Zanrye thanked the man and dried his hands on his pants before unraveling it. It was from Josephine about the state of affairs back at Skyhold. Cassandra was still at the camp though Vivienne had gone back. But in exchange, they sent Sera to man the forward camp with Cassandra. He could only imagine how much his Second was being annoyed by the devlish elf.

"You get a lot of them. Only been a week yknow." The woman said. He looked up to her from where he sat. Her name was Tiana, a miner skilled at the bow. She had the marking of Andruil on her face. Zanrye shrugged as he looked from her to the parchment in turn.

"There's never a moment's rest when you're the Inquisitor." He said mildly.

"Such a fancy title." She smirked. "Inquisitor."

"The one that comes with the organization's name." Zanrye said bluntly, not in the mood to banter with someone about his status.

"And with that fancy hand of yours." She continued. Her skin was fair and her hair was brown and wavy. It reached her shoulders just about. Her eyes were plainly brown as well. Before Zanrye could dismissively speak of his mark, she continued, "And I've seen what it did to those demons…from inside the temple. You opened the fade…."

"That's not something I have complete control over yet." Zanrye said, standing now. "We're calling trainers for these things…who I'll speak to after we've managed to open the temple."

He didn't wait for her to respond but started to pick up his sword. He barely bent over when Tiana bent down instead and grabbed it before he could. She grasped it in her fist, her body slowly rising to stand erect once more, her eyes never leaving his. She gripped it a moment before daintily offering it to him.

"It's heavy." She remarked. He took it, eyeing her and shaking his head.

"It's supposed to be." He replied and then walked past, knowing her eyes were on his back. He'd gotten that vibe from her since he entered the camp. And he felt a vibe being emanated from himself. Some people simply clicked, at least carnally. But he knew he would not indulge. He didn't know this woman, nor she him, and she was not a whore either.

That…and he couldn't help but picture Josephine's face whenever he bothered to flirt back.

"Keeper," Zanrye bowed his head to Keeper Mithlanel. "I'm going to head out into the mountain range and retrieve some more shards. Those we found in the Hinterlands are on their way as well, with one of my elven partners. Her name is Sera. She's due here soon."

"Excellent, excellent." Keeper responded. "We are grateful as always Inquisitor Lavellan." He paused. "And it has been nice having you here with us…. I did indeed have my doubts about you near the beginning, as I'm sure you had about Biloro."

"They're unfounded." Zanrye said truthfully. "And it's been nice being here. You've been more than welcoming. Though I'd prefer the woods to the desert."

"Wouldn't we all." Keeper chuckled. "mythal guide you out there. We await your return."

Zanrye made his way to the more secluded shrubbery to see Solas nearly dressed. He stood before the man who slowly pulled his shirt over his head in a methodical way.

"I didn't know your clothes came off, Solas." He stabbed at him. Solas's head turned his way and the roll of his eyes was almost too much for Zanrye who couldn't keep the grin off his face.

"I didn't know yours would stay on." Solas said lightly, his own jab subtler. He grabbed his staff and walked to Zanrye from the hammock bed he had made. As the two walked across the water to their horses, Zanrye spoke.

"You could sleep in the tent they've provided."

"I would not feel as comfortable as you do." Solas replied. "I am accustomed to more open areas. Besides, I am not who they have welcomed to it. You are."

"And you're my "extension" so by that channel, you are entitled to the tent." Zanrye said. "If you'd rather stay outside, I understand. It's nice at night. But if you'd rather sleep on actual cushion, the tent is open."

Solas did not respond but he did not have to. Zanrye had said his piece. He got onto his own horse and Solas on to his and the two men, alongside three from clan Biloro (Tiana included) made their way out into the blistering desert in search of more shards to open the remaining doors.

* * *

14 YEARS EARLIER

Rista's eyes were troubled today. Her short hair kept getting into them even still. There were too many Templars…to many Nevarran hunters…and too many unknowns. Zanrye knew that as well as any others. And still he did not want that worry to be in his mother's eyes—the startling grey that mirrored his own.

"The squabbles of the humans have nothing to do with us." Narvez told her as 17 year old Zanrye readied breakfast. His sister was yet outside, playing with Po no doubt. She milked the halla earlier today; Zanrye now used the same milk to coat the pan, readying it with oil for the flour and butter to follow, in order to make the cakes.

"No, but they have everything to do with the territory." Rista shot back. "If it isn't a Chantry Templars coming through, it's yet another guard of the Monarchy. The site isn't worth being in the thick of their own investigations over who owns the territory it sits on; and their own miners and merchants visit the ruins themselves. If any mage is brought, they will be able to sense the Keeper's entourage. Even she says so."

"And if they do?" Narvez reasoned. "We stand ready for any attack on our settlement with two other clans within a few hour's reach who may come to our aid if need be."

"The very same who also don't want us to carry along fifty mages." Rista responded.

"Fourteen." Narvez corrected. When Rista leveled him with a glare, he sat as well, saying, "We've always had trouble with the humans, Rista. That's inevitable. And them fighting and bickering amongst each other does nothing to compromise our situation. Nor do the teams they send to investigate the ruins. There were teams like that near the Dales."

"I'll just feel better when we move." Rista replied and stood from the table. She walked over to her son and Zanrye was waiting for her, flipping the cakes in the metal circular skillet over the contained fire. She kissed his temple and rubbed his hair gold-brown hair, her pale hand contrasting his own olive-toned skin, now almost fully brown since they'd been out in the sun all season. She wrapped the other arm around his shoulders. He was taller than her. "I'm sorry. I know I said I'd make them today."

"It's alright ma." He said to her, placing the two to the side and starting on another. "I knew you'd be going at it for a while."

"You agree with me don't you?" She asked him.

"I don't…really want to leave." He said. "And I do think baba's right about our defenses. This isn't the first time shems have gotten violent with us—around us." Rista winced.

"Don't use that word around your sister." Rista scolded. Zanrye just gave her a look and then peered around his sister-less house. Rista rolled her eyes and continued, "This is also the first time humans have been on either side of us, each going through our territory in order to get to each other."

"True," Narvez spoke up, standing as well. "But again, that is their own quarrel. We won't get stuck in the middle if we operate by ourselves."

"And for how long must we live adhering to the humans' travel patterns?" Rista snapped. Her temper was one prone to flaring in the face of stupidity or danger. Zanrye knew he got his own from her. She now leveled Narvez and Zanrye with a glare as she spoke, "Are we to live out a year, two—ten—in fear that the humans will confront us? Are we going to have to limit the space for our ram, our halla, our childrens' playgrounds? What about finding a site for the vallaslin rituals?" She was indignant. "We have come a long way from dodging around humans. Are we to revert to the practices of city elves and pretend we live in an alienage—a place owned by the shems that we are forced to build our lives in?"

She has shamed the two of them into silence. She inhales deeply at their guilty yet not submitting stares and then shakes her head.

"I…will feel better…when we leave this place." She said again, going to the wardrobe to pick up her bow and arrow. She was a senior scout and field healer for her team. Narvez was a senior hunter. Zanrye's father had been a gatherer—those who'd accompanied scouts on their missions so that they could gather the needed herbs for the camp—before he became a full-time healer.

She said nothing as she assembled her pack and bow quietly. Zanrye just stood there before he took two cakes, sprinkled sugar on them, and wrapped them in a waterproof skin. He walked to the door where she stood, the meal in his hand, his face expressionless. His mother took it, kissed him quickly on the cheek, and left. Zanrye looked to his father who just sighed heavily, sitting back down. Zanrye said nothing as he took the remaining cakes and set them before the two of them so that they could have breakfast.

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS

The cliffside was steeper than the rest and dangerously high above the shifting rocks beneath them. Zanrye's arm shook after so much climbing that day. He hoisted himself over the edge and crawled slowly to his feet. One of Keeper's people (Menriel was his name) followed, then Solas, then Tiana, then another from the camp (her name was Hikal). The five of them panted as they tried to compose themselves. Zanrye saw it instantly, though Solas got to it first.

"The shard." He said, picking it up and handing it over to the Inquisitor.

"Then one more…until the next set of doors should open." Zanrye said through heavy breaths. "And if Sera brings the rest of the shards, that might be all we need for all doors."

"If there are more than two." Solas told him.

"We should be prepared for there being at least three more." Zanrye said simply and Solas gave him a nod of understanding.

"I've never seen the Hinterlands." Tiana said. "We never lived there…what is it like?"

"Before or after the Templar-mage war razed it?" Solas asked back snappily. Zanrye lazily hit him with the back of his hand to stop him.

"It's actually nice." He said. "Without the fighting…lots of forests, trees, streams, hills, cliffs, settlements. There is a lack of proper gems but there a many different flora…and fauna."

"Sounds like the home we left." Tiana said.

"Where'd you leave?"

"Someplace far from here." She replied shortly. "It was nice there…lush…greenery up to your knees every day. We were swimming in it all." In a moment, she changed the subject, as if moving away from something painful. "So…what's a hunter like you doing championing Sylaise anyway?"

"Why do you think I was a hunter?" Zanrye shot back. Her own face was decorated by Andruil.

"Because you don't feel like a scout but you belong out in the wild—hunting for something." Tiana said frankly. Zanrye eyed her and then the two others who were also waiting.

"Because Sylaise is survival." He said plainly. He looked at his marked hand and then back at them. "And as you can see, she has blessed me thus far."

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS (SOLASLAN)

The terror charged him. The flurry surrounded him, engulfed him as his sword impacted flesh. He went through and swung in a circular motion, catching all enemies in his path. The shield was held around him via Solas. Tiana kept her back arched, her posture poised as she shot arrow after arrow into the countless wraiths, terrors, and number of vile demons awaiting them in the room.

The veilfire colored the walls a green-blue and Zanrye felt the familiar charging within himself as he and the other elves assaulted their foes one after another. The claws of the rift demons tore through his chainmailed legs as others bounced harmlessly off of his battle armor. He lithely hopped back just one step, calling out for his team to get ready.

And then the rift came to life. Green surged from his outstretched fist and the breach was felt by all—mage or no. The demons shuddered—wraiths, wisps, the arcane horror, and more. They fought the pull that sucked their lives from their constructed flesh, crying out as it happened. Zanrye brought his sword arm around to the horror—their greatest foe at this time—and sent the blade halfway through its head. It grabbed for his armored arm to no avail and was violently jerked back into the fade from which it came.

Not all were taken down so easily. Zanrye tried to catch his breath as Solas froze the two remaining and Menriel shoved his two blades into one, shattering it. The other was much the same, pierced through by electricity from Solas's staff.

There was stillness. Zanrye tried to recompose and walked slowly to the treasure awaiting them in the center of the room as Solas instantly went to more writing on the walls. The middle chest looked like a coffin yet it was not. It was an offering, or something to be used for worship. He placed his hands on the lid and pushed it as he had done three more just like it.

Inside were weapons, blades made of the brightest metal he ever saw. And bracelets. And gems. And notes—notes everywhere, even runes here and there. There was a jewelry scattered, craftsmanship of the highest quality but design revealing its old nature.

"We'll take these back and inspect them." Zanrye said slowly. "We should regroup."

"Are you okay?" Tiana asked him. He nodded.

"Tired." Zanrye replied. "We'll do the next door in a bit."

The group left the way they came, up the stairs and through the two previous entrances until they reached the foyer which led them back out into the dimming sun and calm waterfall. Zanrye breathed deep, his head clearing. He knew he was getting the hang of conjuring rifts but he needed a trainer—soon.

"Keeper believes we nearly reached the last of the doors." Tiana said behind him as he washed his face. He looked at her and then nodded slowly.

"Good." He replied. "I'm knew, together, he and Solas can make sense of all the writing." He shook his head. "Don't even know where he learned to read it…but that's Solas for you."

"He wants to celebrate our progress." Tiana continued, coming to sit where he had on a rock near the stream—somewhat secluded. "Hunters are already out, going to bring back our stored grains and hunt for some dragon meat." Zanrye leveled her with a look that made her laugh. "Well not dragon meat but something of equal taste."

"You all don't need to do that." Zanrye said.

"We're doing it for all of us." Tiana said reasonably. "And you are a part of that. If you hadn't… shown up to help us, we would have had to move on. And we'd never have uncovered all of this —especially before some shems got their hands on it."

"I suppose." Zanrye said tiredly, thinking. He turned to look at her for a brief moment and they spoke at the same time.

"Where did you come from?"

"Did you leave anyone behind?"

The two of them stopped and then Zanrye inhaled, smiling. He looked at her again.

"Do you want to start?"

"You can." Tiana laughed. "I was just flirting." Zanrye smirked and then thought.

"Why don't you want to talk about where you came from before you came to the Oasis?" Tiana surprisingly kept the smile on her face.

"Guess I couldn't dodge that forever." She said with a submitting sigh. But her smile and her voice did not reach her eyes. They were dark. Sad. "I left someone behind…back on the other side of the world. A lot of people actually. Left my family—two brothers and a mother. Father was lost at sea or something." She shrugged. "They all died." Zanrye held her stare.

"How?" He asked her, not the slightest bit subtle or tactful.

"How do you think?" Tiana snorted. "Shems and their city elves."

* * *

14 YEARS EALIER

It had been a few days and the excavation of the ruins was well underway. Zanrye kept to his shadowing of the hunters of the clan, getting ready for his time when he too would join their ranks. His mother yet fretted but not as loudly as she had a month ago. Keeper announced they'd probably move on in due time—predictable time—and that seemed to ease her mind.

The day was like any other in that area and Zanrye awoke and began on the needed repairs to the house while Mima went about wrestling the goats back into the corrals.

He was on their roof—made of only leather and wood in a way that indicated this was not a long-term settlement. He balanced, threading rope into the nooks and crannies. His mouth was full of more of it and adhesive was tucked under his arm. It was nearly midday. It was hot.

His mother was home rather than on a scouting mission. She had a meeting with the keeper today, to discuss how to reassemble the routes to take, judging by the scattering patterns of the shems on their course. They must remain safe….

She came out to her son and had a two cups in her hands. She whistled up at him and he looked down at her and smiled. He slowly climbed down just enough, leaving the adhesive at the top of the roof. He swung out to grab the cup and, spitting the string out of his mouth, downed half of it in a gulp. It was made of some fruit he recognized but couldn't name. Probably there to mask the healthiness his mother embedded in the drink.

"Careful." She warned.

"I am, I am." He said. "Almost done with the connections so then we'll be set for the next few weeks." Tsked. "I swear; I don't know how Reynard did it that time. It lasted for months."

"I'm sure you'll do it just fine." She said, indicating he would not be able to get out of doing the chore; she kept close to the ladder so he could grab the second without swinging. Both were for him. "Are you going out still today to get the list from Keeper?"

"Yes. In an hour or so I should be headed there. In the meantime, when I'm done with this, I was thinking of going with Po to see about the border."

"What for?"

"Only to mark it." Zanrye said nonchalantly. "We do it at every location, ma—this one won't be different. It's just something we like to do. And we'll be careful." In truth, it was to scope out the area so they could find the best access points for entering and leaving the city unnoticed with their justice-driven torture victims. But his mother didn't need to know that.

"Well don't get in sight of any humans." She warned unnecessarily.

"Yes mama." He handed her his cup and took the second one now. "And what about you? When do you think you'll be home tonight?"

"Well, before you." Rista said simply. "If you're going with the gatherers to pick up the herbs on Keeper's list then you'll be going further west and I'll be here all the while at the meeting then back home to make dinner. Do you want onions or green peppers?"

"Peppers." Zanrye answered. "Are we eating white meat or red?"

"Of course red." Rista smirked. "Wouldn't want you to have your tantrum."

"We've had white meat all week." Zanrye said, exasperation slipping into his voice but leaving as a laugh came to him. He handed her the next empty cup. "Okay well I'll be sure to bring you more garlic and sage when I come home." He smiled at her. "I may even find another gem for your sculpture at the ruins."

"Da'len, if you go anywhere near the ruins—" She started but Zanrye laughed her off.

"Joking." He smiled, climbing back up the ladder. "But I may find one by the edge of town anyway. Not from near the ruins. I prooomise."

She seemed to take that as enough of an answer and then made her way back to the house with one last, "be safe" and a knowing, motherly glare that came accompanied by a smile.

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS (SOLASLAN)

There was supposedly one final door to go through. Yet the light was no longer upon them in the Oasis and so they had called it a night. The feast Tiana spoke of was upon them.

Zanrye had knocked out for most of the day following and when he woke up, it was to harps and lutes echoing music throughout the entire space, overpowering even the rushing of water. And there was another sound—reminiscent of singing almost…. What was it?

He sat up, grabbing his belt to secure his tunic and grabbed the footwraps he wore in this area as opposed to the boots he wore otherwise. He pulled back the flap and saw sparkling torches of orange and blue light—mage light and nature light. It was dark otherwise but he looked up to the stars twinkling down at them.

"You arise." He heard Solas say and saw that the man was sitting cross-legged before the entrance to his tent.

"And you aren't at your private enclosure." Zanrye said back, helping the man to his feet. He looked at the various elves—not too many but enough—walking to and fro, here and there, with meat wrapped in skins rather than on wooden ovals to plate them. He smelled meat and zesty seasoning as well as something minty.

"There is a celebration." Solas told him, smiling slightly. "Such a time is something to be observed, experienced—not hidden from."

"You don't strike me as the type of man who'd like to party—especially with non-mages." Zanrye said, his voice slightly teasing. Solas was good-natured.

"There is magic in gatherings such as this." Was all he said before he gestured his head to the figure coming to them. It was the Keeper, who smiled.

"I was just coming to wake you, Inquisitor." He smiled jovially. He held out a cup to Zanrye who took it with a bow of his head. "We have begun to plate but would like you to maybe say a few words."

"I'm not the best for speeches but I will try." Zanrye said, the light, breathy sound louder now. He looked around but couldn't find the source. "Keeper Mithlanel…what is that sound?"

"Oh." The keeper smiled. "It's very lovely, isn't it? It's one of the artifacts from the temple—nearly perfectly preserved as it was made from the magic containments of clay and wood. The glass is of course broken but the sound would be louder and richer with it."

"Who is playing this?" Zanrye asked. "It's nice. If I could see it…."

"It plays itself, lethallin." The Keeper chuckled. "You may see for yourself. It and the many other treasures from the find today. They will not all be kept by us, and you may take what you like out of the entirety of it—within reason. These finds have revealed more than we all could have hoped for in fact."

"Was there more than the treasure itself?" Zanrye asked. "I only surveyed some of it…I was tired after the battle…."

"There is a lot more than what there appeared—this chest was much deeper than the first." The Keeper said. "And there were documents that are of great importance to our Clan and at least a dozen others." He waved his hand. "But that can all be sorted out and talked of after the celebration. I want to thank you and Lavellan…for all you have already done for us here."

"There's still another door—or three." Zanrye reminded the man but still squeezed his hand in return. The man shook his head.

"Here's to the first two doors—or six." He said kindly. With that, he led the two elves to the thick of the party and Zanrye could feel the flurry taking him over. He knew that he should remain dignified and act as Inquisitor—even now. But the nostalgia was beginning to hit him. The elves all around him, playing tunes he knew of, dancing in ways he could recall, speaking the language of his ancestors.

"Don't let me get too drunk, Solas." He whispered to the elf, taking a sip of the drink the man had brought him. It was made of lemons and cranberries he could tell. The bittersweet.

"I will watch over you." Solas said calmly, smiling at the commotion around him.

"And try not to jump into bed with any of our potential allies." Zanrye teased as Solas's eyes lingered on a passing woman.

"I would say the same to you," Solas said frankly. Zanrye scoffed and as if on cue he could see Tiana approaching. He smiled as she came to them, a plate of something delicious in her hands.

"Will you dance for food?" She asked him, smiling.

"For that food, yes." Zanrye played along and followed her into the middle of the green area where the festivities were held. He quickly began to kick out and spin her, letting the elven rhythms take him.

"You're not a stranger to dancing. Not what I expected of an Inquisitor." Tiana said to him over the commotion, swaying with her back to him and his hands at her hips.

"I'm Dalish first." He said to her, manipulating their feet to glide together. She seemed to be content with that response and instead let the music take them.

* * *

14 YEARS EARLIER

It happened too quickly. He should have been there. But he wasn't. He was out doing errands for keeper when suddenly, their hunters were with them and telling them of an attack with their clan being in the middle of it.

Zanrye was scared and angry, grabbing his somewhat crude greatsword that he'd bought from a merchant back in true Orlais. His first thought was to Mima. He didn't know what she was doing today. People were panicked and testy. No one would tell him. Where was she!?

But then he'd found her and hugged her tight and asked her if she'd seen their parents. She told him she was going to ask him the same thing.

That's when the arrow had come. It hit one of the horses in the back and it nearly unseated its elven rider. Zanrye crouched, heart pounding. He heard the shouts of shems left and right. Mima was quivering next to him. She was without her bow or even a small blade. She had been on her way to the mage enclosure with a friend. There was no need for such.

Zanrye didn't need to use it because the hunter who'd found them policed the situation within moments. But still there were the shouts and the cries. The forest was thick and acted as a blinder now. They had to go. They had to make it back to camp.

"There might not be a camp." Zanrye heard the hunter say. His blood ran cold at that. He knew what that meant….

Instead of camp, they were going to the regroup area—right next to another Clan (Clan Garmela's territory). They were Levallan's strongest allies here. They welcomed in the dozens upon dozens of refugees. Zanrye did not want to be among them. Where was his father? His mother? His Keeper?

No one gave him an answer. But it came soon enough.

The majestic hallas delivered bodies to the refugee area by threes. One after another, their backs bloodied. Zanrye watched with horror, helpless as a little boy. He knows he is gripping Mima's hand too tight. He knows he should heed the scout's warnings to get away from the loading area. But he can't. He won't. Where were they?

The sight of his father riding a halla rather than lying dead on it brought blood back into Zanrye's clenched hand and he exhaled audibly. Ignoring the many hands that tried to grab him, he wrestled himself and Mima through to Narvez who got off of the beast awkwardly. Zanrye's outstretched arms remained but he peered at the slumped figure in Narvez's arms. His father didn't even seem to notice him and pushed past, running into the tent that awaited them. Zanrye's eyes were wide as he looked.

"Is that mama?" His sister hissed, shock thick in her voice.

Zanrye didn't answer. Instead, he went into the tent behind his father, wrenching violently out of the grips of the guards and hearthwomen and mages who dared try to stop him. His eyes never blinked and he heard the sounds of the swords and the screams and the moans of pain around him as though they came from a far, far distance.

"Ma…" He heard himself say, hands pushing past Narvez and the others who crowded her bed.

The blonde woman's head was soaked red and her bright eyes were wide and staring. Her chest bounced as if she were running, breath coming in quick, short spurts. Hands were reaching—for something. For anything. Words made no sense.

The healers were all around her and information slipped into Zanrye's head: Perendale…hunters …Templars…the Templars had noticed the mage presence; the hunters had noticed the Templars; they all had noticed the elven congregation; each blamed the other for the presence of so many mage-elves. And the Perendale's took it as an attempt from the Orlesian Templars to frame them. Of what? Zanrye didn't know. He didn't care.

His mother continued to spasm, blood in her mouth, face as pale as snow. She didn't even have armor on…. She had been vulnerable to the attacks that came. And they came plentifully. Her tunic was littered with areas of insertions from arrows, daggers, a longsword. Her fingers looked like they'd caught frostbite and one arm hung limp with bone jutting out at the shoulder.

Zanrye saw all of this, through wet, swimming eyes, vision so shaky, he could barely make sense of it.

And he was horrified.

He didn't know how hard he was sobbing—how much he was reeling—until Narvez had taken him into his arms. He struggled against the man, the one blocking his vision. He needed to see her. He needed to see her the right way. He needed his mother.

Narvez endured his son's kicking and punching and screaming like a wild animal. He took it all in stride, securing him within his arms. Because he knew.

Zanrye succumbed to gibberish, exhausted, and Narvez released him. He turned away from the man and shielded his eyes with his arm. And he sobbed. He sobbed harder than he'd ever sobbed in his entire life (harder than he ever would). It hurt. Something inside him just hurt. In his head and his arms and his chest and his feet. It all just hurt.

The commotion was still all around him, people running back and forth. He heard Po's name—as well as Nishia's. They were still at the home site, defending it against the last hunters. The last?

Zanrye was quiet then. He was quiet for hours. People came and spoke to him, a limping, damaged Keeper, his father, his sister, his friends…all came to him and were met with the stone silence. So they all left him be. His blood felt warm and cold all at the same time. His eyes hurt. He wanted to cry but he had no more water. He would not leave the corpse that was his mother, finally succumbing to her wounds: not when they put a sheet over her, not when they encased her in magic to stop rotting, not when they wheeled others next to her. He stayed, one hand on the cot and the other around his eyes—knees to his chest.

And after hours, when the commotion was directed elsewhere, he did move. Slowly and deliberately. Zanrye's body was not numb. He felt the pain as clear as day—as if he had been stabbed. He stood and walked over to the papers on the tables and examined them, reading off the names of the deceased, the count, the living, the area, the enemy. He read it all, pacing himself. Knowing that he had all the time in the world.

He thought of his father then—his real one. The one he could barely remember but remembered now clear as day. He smelled the elfroot. He inhaled it deep before his hand went to his greatsword to make sure it was there. Then he went to his mother. He prayed over her—to mythal and Sylaise to guide her and love her. And bring her back. He waited… then he took off. He walked out of the camp to the running around in the yard. No one seemed to look his way save for those injured or who hastily looked back at their tasks. The clash of swords was no more and the screams were far and few in between.

They'd come again soon.

He grabbed onto a nearby halla and culled it, shushing it, nurturing it, asking it if he could ride it. His clan never used them as beasts to ride any longer—yet today they'd stained their backs carrying nearly 1/10 of the entire clan.

He climbed on and trotted off. Casually. So as to not draw suspicion. And also because there was no need to rush. He had all the time in the world.

The journey seemed short. The danger was scarcer now. He rode past where his clan's home site had been—or close to it. Half the buildings were intact. He supposed they'd move sooner than they'd expected.

He went to the edge of town—the very same he and Po had checked out earlier. He slipped in, sending the halla away. It deserved to go back. He went ahead, slipping through rows of corn before he came to the house. There were farms this side and then the houses became boxier and more close together after. He was surprised he hadn't awakened any animals but seeing as there'd been a battle today, the animals were probably already spooked.

He came to a window, took a breath, and peeked in. He saw a front room with a woman there, tending to a man. He was injured. His armor was near the side. Two little boys were scurrying about. Yet another man stood talking to the injured Hunter.

Zanrye slowly walked around to the side of the house. He searched around for the entrance through the bard or the feed and he soon found one. It was unlatched—as he suspected. They would latch the front but feel safe here on their land. The knife ears wouldn't follow that far.

Or so they thought.

Zanrye shook, scared and pained and full of lust. And hate. He opened the door and slowly crept into the house. He made it all the way to the beginnings of the kitchen area before he was spotted by the man. He only got out a few words before Zanrye's sword went through the woman, who had gone to get some water. Her scream was short and Zanrye did not care to make her continue. He withdrew and came upon the man, who was scurrying to get a blade, and the hunter, who was defenseless. He swung and severed the man's arm nearly all the way off, the shem beginning to howl in pain. Then he kicked him to the floor and plunged the sword through his chest—ceasing the sound. He turned to the fearful hunter, grey eyes like stone—hungry. Face puffy and eyes red. The man hollered as Zanrye drove him through as well. He heard his cries become incoherent—his inhales become short, his hands begin to writhe. Just like his mother—but uglier.

But Zanrye did not have time to dwell or savor it. Who knows which elf he'd killed? Any of these soldiers could have killed his mother. That means all of them had to die. Them and all who helped or protected them.

He turned his eyes to the two boys who were crying in the corner, hugging each other. They were clearly no older than probably six and four. Zanrye just looked at them both before he walked through the front door and moved onto the next house.

* * *

PRESENT

OASIS (SOLASLAN)

The music did take them. Zanrye did not dance just that once but he got up multiple times after sitting, having a drink, eating some of the spicy meat and buttered potatoes, with the side of radishes. He knew he should stop after his second cup—which was big and round, carved thinly from some tree.

Tiana pushed him.

"You're trying to get me drunk." He pushed the cup back at her at one point after they stopped dancing. She sat with him near the commotion but not quite within it, instead partially secluded by foliage hanging over them.

"I'm trying to even the playing field." Tiana laughed. "You've already gotten too much out of me…. And I have nothing out of you." She smiled at him, drunken and serene. "What's your family like? They aren't with you at the Inquisition I'd think." Zanrye shook his head and shrugged.

"It isn't much of a tale at all." He said. "I lost them. Like you lost yours."

"By way of the shems?" Tiana asked him, stating it as a question. Zanrye nodded and looked into his cup, thinking. He sighed. "But you're working with shems." Tiana said, not accusatory. "Is that hard?"

"It was." Zanrye said simply, not looking at her but at the falling water. "But now it isn't…I've been able to find those I can depend on to get things done." He paused. "Not all shems are alike—some I need; others I need to get out of my way."

"I know that. I guess." Tiana said, now looking to the skies. "But I didn't think that—for a long while. I still don't know if I truly do. I know what all of them are capable of." Her voice is distant as she thought long. "I killed that chantry bitch who ordered the murder of my brothers, and the executor, and her fucking mabari dog who tried to stand in the way." She let out a humorless laugh. "I guess that…makes me a bad person. Puts me…almost the same as them."

Zanrye said nothing for a long time, staring at the waterfall, the drink no longer sitting well with him. He felt his stomach clench at her tale as images of the dozens of shems he'd killed filled his mind—all in the name of vengeance, or justice.

"I did the same." He said lowly. He felt her turn to him but he kept his eyes on the water.

"Chantry?" She asked.

"Hunters. In our area." He said drily. The memories and vulnerability hit him too fast. He talked quickly but in a way that seemed too slow. "I have a little sister…all the family I have left." He swallowed nothing. "My clan's alive…thankfully…but my father…and my mother—and my sister's father…." He took another sip to soothe his throat before continuing. "All gone."

He felt her hand come onto his shoulder and he was grateful for it but not moved by it. Nor did it stop his words.

"I killed a lot of shems…when they took my mother." He said softly, nostrils itching. He wiped at them hastily and sighed heavily. "There was nothing I could do…besides get revenge…. And even that did nothing to help me. Because she was gone…." He knew his eyes were smarting. He sipped some more.

"At least they paid." Tiana said softly. "You made them pay." Zanrye nodded, shaky.

"I did." He said softly. "Them…and all others—who didn't deserve it. Or maybe they did…." He shrugged and gulped more liquid. "They were all shems… in the area…allies of the hunters. So I killed them for taking her away from me…." He could feel the tears threatening, bewildered that they had come so unannounced and before he could even register them. He found it hard to speak but choked out, "…taking her…before I could even…say goodbye or…that I loved her…." He clenched his mouth and then took yet another gulp—trying to calm himself. The hand was more tender now on his shoulder and the woman beside him sat staring at the water as well.

"We'll return to them—to the fade…one day." She said softly. "And when we do, they'll be proud of us—for everything." Zanrye hoped she was right. She turned to look at the party and Zanrye's eyes went with her. She stared as them and Zanrye heard her as if she were in his mind, "They're family…my family." She sighs. "I'm not originally of clan Biloro, Lavellan. But I am now." She looked at him. "Just like you…and your Inquisition…." She looks to Solas eating a second helping of food. "Clans grow…they expand. You are the Dalish Inquisitor… the Inquisitor with a Lavellan imprint." She seems somewhat pained but a smile is on her face. "Those who have suffered and lost as we have…who have a family…whether one or two…know better than anyone how to protect the ones we love." Her smile clears of some sadness as she continues, "We have a tendency…to love a bit better I think." She is sultry but not as before. "Because we know what it truly means to appreciate someone for just existing."

* * *

14 YEARS EARLIER

The last thing he remembered was being overpowered. He'd gone from house to house—like a grim reaper. Like death. He'd slaughtered all but the young—leaving each of them an orphan. 20 houses? 40? It had to be near fifty before they had all rallied. He knew they would. And he was ready for them to. He was bloody—a mix of his own and the shems—and he was bruised. He had begun to limp slightly when the dog had gotten his legs. But he kept on. He'd kill enough of them to equate a fraction of what his mother's death felt like.

And then he knew he'd be dead. They'd stop him soon enough. He was not so delirious that he did not realize this. But when they did, it'd be too late. So many they loved would be dead and his death would not matter. He would go exactly where he wanted to be, to the forest with his mother, and his father.

He felt serene almost—though his heart still pumped and body still pained as the dagger went through his thigh, dangerously close to his privates. But he was ready for this. He killed that one and the other who attempted to axe him. He killed the whimpering woman and her daughter—probably a woman of only 3 or so years. But a woman.

But then he knew he would not be victorious. He heard the familiar sounds of halla hooves—a sound so much more melodious and pure and mighty than any shem horse. And he knew they were coming for him. To ruin him.

To help him.

He tried to incite the violence then but now the shems were scared—were they being surrounded? They came at him but some ran and he could take the one, the two, the three. No! They should come at him all at once, hold him down! Do it!

But no. A cage of raw energy surrounded him and he felt himself be immobilized. Minutes later, Nishia came crashing in, a vision of death and grace as her daggers decapitated all in her path. Behind her was Lana, weaving hexes. And a few minutes behind them were shems on a rampage.

There were only the two of them. And that was all it took to foil everything, to force Zanrye to live with the rift in his heart that certainly would not heal on its own. Not ever.

When he resisted, his world went black and he awoke on Nishia's lap as they rode back into camp. He was sent to the medical alcove and tended to, his vision swimming half from the blood loss and half from the tears at his failure. He saw his sister's face flash and heard Po's voice scolding him, asking him what he was trying to do.

But they all knew very well what he was trying to do. And that's what enabled Zanrye to get the space he needed from the group, for as long as he did. But all the while, they kept him on constant surveillance as they set up to move out. No access to herbs, no access to weapons, and certainly no access to a halla or horse.

When the time came to finally move—back to Antiva where Zanrye's father was buried—and where they'd stay only for the burial of his mother—Zanrye was allowed to ride in the same travel as his deceased mother. He was not allowed to touch her but could imagine the markings of sylaise on her face. It was then that he vowed to do the same and in choosing this vow, he realized that he would not kill himself either. Death was not the way to avenge his mother, survival was. And for her, he would survive and try to ensure that everyone they loved and cared about survived too—his father, Mima, Nishia, Po…. All of them, if it was in his power, would remain safe. As would he.

That, he vowed.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"Inquisitor?" Josephine asked Zanrye as she stepped onto the stone walkway in the tower nearest their offices and rooms. He sat on the ledge over the near 50ft drop, one leg resting, one hanging. He stood as she came to him. He had summoned her here after he had returned. He had been gone so long that everyone wanted his attention and as the day aged to evening, he knew he'd have to get to her inconspicuously to do this. A bag was near him.

He pondered how it'd only been a little less than a month and he could no longer find his desk for all the papers. He knew he was going to have to raise his count from 150 a day.

"I'm here." Zanrye said to her. She gave him a small smile that he returned and waited for her to join him at the edge. She came close and then looked at him expectantly.

"I did not expect you to summon me." She said. "I have already talked your ear off about the various disturbances that occurred when you were away…." She paused, voice purposefully nonchalant. "I presume it was a productive time away. The gold you brought back has greatly weighed down the Inquisition's purse. And the temple you found…." She trailed off as Zanrye didn't say anything, just looked out over the side of the walkway, into the fading sun.

"It isn't about business necessarily." He said finally, his voice somewhat distant. "I wanted to give you a gift." Josephine's eyes betrayed her as they locked onto him with surprise.

"You needn't have gotten me anything from your travels, Inquisitor." She said, arms crossing, looking out now as well.

"Well, two things actually." Zanrye said softly, as though he didn't hear her. He reached into his armor pocket and produced a scroll. He handed it to her. She took it, looking from him to it and then opened it. He spoke as she read, "The Dalish clan Biloro and several who they are reaching out to now have a claim over the temple and its surrounding area by about 30 miles. They have allied themselves with the Inquisition and we may operate outside of this area now that they have secured the temple AND we can build a camp near the temple."

Josephine's eyes were wide and she looked like she wanted to beam but contained herself. She smiled at him still and shook her head. He added, "I knew this location was a good one for the Inquisition to operate in the area…probably the best one."

"How did you manage to do this?" She asked. "To convince them to allow us there…when…."

"I've learned at least a bit about politics from you." He said simply. Josephine seemed still shocked beyond words. He continued, "No one knows yet. How we go now, I want you to oversee. When you have a solid plan, we will go from there. I think you should consult me but I think…you can handle this." He said this slowly. Josephine was quiet for a minute.

"You would entrust this to me." She said, not asked.

"You'd handle it better than I…." Zanrye said, not looking at her. "And…I think…I can trust you more than anyone else not to mistreat this Clan…or the grounds' history…."

He'd said it and the look on Josephine's face at this remark made him want to hide and smile at the same time. She looked happy and awed but also sad and scared at the same time. He moved on, reaching into the bag.

"For the second." He said to her, producing from the bag a reddish-brown contraption with gold embroidery and golden glass. It was shiny and buffed and restored from its earlier state.

Josephine hesitantly took it from him as he passed it to her. She eyed it.

"It's…certainly beautiful." She said. "But…what is it?"

"It's an instrument—from a time before even my grandmother. Elven." He told her, his voice getting soft unintentionally. He moved her hands to hold it out and turned her towards the wind. "It plays itself and it catches the wind—like a flute or a chime—and…" he waited for the sound to come and indeed it did—richer and louder this time as the Keeper promised. It made Zanrye shiver a bit as he heard it. Josephine's breath was heavier now. "Wow…"

"Inq—…Zanrye." She said softly, holding it out so more sound could flow—beautiful and bright and vibrant or deep whichever way the wind hit it. It sounded like a harp and a flute and a lute and a xylophone all at once. He realized he was still holding onto her to direct it and slowly let his hands fall from her arms to rest on her shoulders. She turned her head to stare at him, eyes bright and face happy. "It's…I can't even say."

"Well…now you won't need the bard to calm your muscle pain." Zanrye teased with a laugh and Josephine giggled herself. "Though you should probably keep the massages."

"You are mocking me, Inquisitor." She stated unnecessarily. She eyed the instrument still. "It could go at my window…to create the sound without end."

"I'm glad that you like it." He said truthfully, hands squeezing her shoulders.

"I am glad that you thought of me." She said in a voice that was smooth and soft. Zanrye's body gave another shiver at that and he felt his ears prickle, holding onto her. The silence that followed, filled with the sounds of the wind creating beautiful sounds around them, seemed harmonious to Zanrye but Josephine seemed to snap back from a dream state and she cleared her throat, seemingly embarrassed of the words she had uttered.

"Well…I will have to find you something of equal caliber in response." She said lightly, slipping out of his hands. She seemed _ever so slightly_ _reluctant_ to do so but succeeded. Zanrye returned his hands to himself and escorted her back to the door leading to the inner stairs. They were separate, barely even brushing each other yet still the music sounded from the instrument, echoing all around them, accenting each step they took and leaving an imprint on Zanrye's mind.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

My gameplay, Oasis when I unlocked the Western Approach obvs but I reversed the order of meeting Hawke first (which you must do but I pretended not to). Wicked minds and hearts right around the corner. [PS, my order is going to be somewhat different from the games here as well]

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

-Zanrye's mother was killed in the crossfire between a war between the Nevarran Perindale-dwellers vs. the Orlesians Perindale is right on the border and has been a rowdy area and point of contention between the two kingdoms. The arrival of a lot of elven mages would be seen by Orlais as a local "slave army" in Nevarra to slight the Orlesian reliance on tempalrs and the like. And the Nevarrans think they're being framed and that the Orlesian wanna put these dangerous mages in their area—since they have lots of elven slaves to spare who probably have magic

-No a xylophone is not an instrument within the DA universe as far as I know but I put it in there because that is a precursor to the piano (xylophone plus harp equals finger piano which becomes the full-fledged piano)

-Dalish have been known to trade (not sell) people (usually mages) and some clans have bad run-ins with shems and some are completely obliterated by these encounters.

-Also, though halla are not typically ridden anymore, they are by some clans. Not by clan Lavellan, who only work them on the aravel pulling.

-The gifts for Josephine are lore-driven, especially the one about music. [I will not spoil more than that but my Josephine has those lore-driven qualities]

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Tiana- (girl) Clan Biloro

Keeper Mithlanel= (boy) Clan Biloro

Narvez- (boy, deceased) step father

Rista- (girl, deceased) mother

Mima- (girl) younger sister by five years


	11. 99 Problems

SKYHOLD

"There was a letter for you." Zanrye said slowly.

"Is it a naughty letter?" Dorian asked, his smirk ever present. Zanrye almost threw up his hands there, not saying anything. The peace talks were in days and each day prior, his plate was filling more and more. He'd already had to deal with Cullen's talk of being a lyrium addict, he'd gone and found the heart of a wolf for Vivienne on some obscure quest, and now Mother Giselle was speaking ill of Dorian and came bearing news of his family.

If Zanrye knew anything about the man, it was that matters with his family were complicated, to put things lightly. He and Dorian had only interacted with jokes and instructions for the lessons being taught to the mages. And yet now he had to address the man, who was little more than an ally, as if he were a friend. The look on the man's face at the news made Zanrye wish that someone else were in his place. Dorian raged with the letter in his hand.

"I'm willing to bet this retainer is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and take me back to Tevinter!" Dorian exclaimed. Zanrye, who was sitting, looked up at him wearily.

"You think your father would do that?" He asked lightly. Dorian paused.

"No." He declared. "But I wouldn't put it past him." He inhaled to compose himself. "We'll go and meet this so-called family retainer. It it's a trap, we'll just escape and kill everyone. You're good at that right? If it's not, I send the man back with the message that he can stick his alarm in his wit's end."

"If we're going to do this, we should go with a more open mind." Zanrye told him, his tiredness slipping into his voice. "At least give the man a chance to say what they want."

"I didn't ask you for what you thought now did I!?" Dorian said curtly. _Sathan mythal_ , was all Zanrye could think, begging to Creators to deliver him. Dorian must have sensed this because, though his face remained the same, his voice started again, "That…was unworthy of me. I apologize. There is no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say." His voice became surly once more. "If I don't like it, however, I want to leave."

"After we've heard what they have to say." Zanrye urged.

"Yes, yes. After." Dorian said and turned away. Zanrye was being dismissed. He stood and then left the area, leaving Dorian to stew and sizzle. Zanrye checked off his mental list as he ascended to the upper ramparts. He knew the scout was coming before the man reached him. He knew it was time.

"I know. Varric's waiting." Zanrye said and walked out to stand beside the short man.

"Inquisitor." He said.

"Hello Varric." Zanrye sighed, sitting on the raised wall.

"You feeling alright? I see bags." Varric told him. Trust Varric to say what others wouldn't.

"I'll be fine." Zanrye said almost testily. "I just need to finish all these errands…and rest up…before the meeting…."

"I'm sure Scribbles could take some of the burden off of you." Varric offered.

"She and Cassandra are already doing their shares and more." Zanrye replied. "And what's this about Cassandra going to kill you? Who is this Hawke character exactly?"

"I can't believe you don't know already." Varric shook his head. "But when she…"

He did not finish his sentence before Seras Hawke walked out onto the landing with the two of them. The human woman was tall, decked out in armor with furs and spikes, a greatsword at her back. Her hair was perhaps a bit longer than Cassandra's but wavier. Her eyes were green, almost like Nishia's. But she toned at a lighter brown than Nishia. She was maybe four or so shades darker than Zanrye's sister Mima. Her looks did not compare to her stare, however, which spoke of battles and leadership.

And she carried with her a presence that demanded seriousness. Varric introduced the two of them, Zanrye shaking her hand.

"I was thinking you could help the Inq out here with Corypheus." Varric said. "We did fight him after all." Zanrye's gaze fell on the woman who simply walked over to the edge of the rampart, bending over it and looking onto the courtyard.

"Reminds me of my home in Kirkwall…." She said, her tone not at all wistful. "So many people —all out there depending on me." She inhales. "What a burden…."

"Well this one overlooks Thedas." Zanrye said, voice near blunt. "And I've seen the cost of losing…. All of Thedas will suffer unless this demon-mage-thing is stopped."

"And I'm sure you're doing what you can to put your plans to stop him in motion." Hawke said evenly. She was not rising to his tone. Her eyes were still on the courtyard, however.

"I am." Zanrye said, wanting to get past pleasantries. "And yes the burden remains. This burden was once yours—"

"It has been mine since Corypheus reared his ugly head again." Hawke said, looking back at him and standing straight. Zanrye's eyes met hers and he knew it was time to get to business. "I may be able to help you. Varric and I fought and killed Corypheus. But he corrupted the Grey Wardens the last time—manipulated their connection with the darkspawn."

"He was able to get into their heads…make them turn on each other." Varric said gravely. Zanrye's eyes widened and he remembered what Leliana had told him so long ago—and thought to Blackwall, the Warden they had picked up at her request.

"So…if the wardens have gone missing…" He said slowly.

"They may have fallen under Corypheus's control again." Hawke said firmly, anger undertoning her gaze.

"Could have?" Zanrye's face was hard. He looked between the two before him in disbelief. "We need to be certain—we can't let a Grey Warden possibly remain at Corypheus's disposal."

"And we will find out." Hawke said calmly. "I have a friend within the Wardens. His name is Stroud. He was worried about corruption the last time we spoke but I haven't heard from him since then."

"And is your friend gone with the wardens?" Varric asked.

"No." Hawke said. "He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

"And how exactly do you know about Corypheus or the wardens if you aren't a member of their order?" Zanrye asked her, arms crossed.

"Because the Templars are Kirkwall were using strange lyrium. Red lyrium. I sought out the wardens for help with how to deal with it." Hawke said. Zanrye's stomach dropped.

"That's the same that the Templars with Corypheus had." Varric spoke out what Zanrye had been thinking. He looked to the Inquisitor who merely cursed under his breath.

"Stroud will hopefully know more." Hawke said.

"Well, I appreciate the help. We should get started as soon as possible." Zanrye said to her, inclining his head ever so slightly.

"I'm doing this as much for myself as for you." Hawke said quietly. "Corypheus is my responsibility. He managed to survive me once. I'll make sure there isn't a second time."

Zanrye didn't see this scout until she was right at his elbow and holding a clipboard with her. He turned to look.

"Yes?" He said impatiently.

"Keeper Mithlanel and his party have been waiting to speak to you for the longest now, Inquisitor." The scout said. "Ambassador Montilyet has done all she can to entertain them thus far but…."

"I understand." Zanrye sighed. He turned to Varric and Hawke. "I apologize about this. But Varric, can you and Hawke get me a map on Crestwood and this Stroud's last known location? We'll head there after the meeting at the Winter Palace—straight after. Report all notes to Cassandra on it if I'm unreachable."

"Um…I don't, uh, think I should deliver them to her." Varric said slowly. Zanrye remembered and sighed even deeper now. _Nuvenan dina_ , his mind echoed and he shook his head.

"Then give it to Josephine." He said tiredly and walked back into the fortress. The scout was ever at his side and he made his way down the many steps and across the grand foyer where all manner of people were speaking to all manner of Inquisition members. Construction was still underway but the foyer was mostly done, with carpeting, flooring, and roof work done. All that was left was the miscellaneous decorations—some Zanrye wasn't sure of even still. He'd have to ask Vivienne to go with him shopping again soon to find the appropriate drapes he supposed.

"Keeper Biloro." Zanrye said to the man as he entered, grasping his hand and bowing his head deeply. Josephine was standing with them and there were cups of water on her desk for each of the five people present. He saw instantly that Tiana was with him, as well as his First and a guardsman whose face was rigid and never-changing. He was a champion of mythal. Zanrye continued on, coming to stand near where Josephine sat before her sitting guests, "I apologize for the late arrival. I was delayed upstairs with another person with a message."

"That is quite alright." Keeper Mithlanel said nicely. "Your Ambassador has told us much of the plans for the upcoming stronghold that will be built in the Oasis."

"Yes." Zanrye said, trying to find it in the papers. "And we have the plans for the construction… right…somewhere here…." Josephine pulled it out from the middle and handed it to him. "Here." He passed it to Keeper. "We were thinking of also constructing a base-type structure for your clan, big enough of course for other clans who may come as well. It would more-so be for storage and housing of livestock but I was thinking we could also add some rooms for the potential need to house our—your Clanspeople within them."

"That would be very good." Keeper nodded. "I have already made contact with three other clans, two of who relinquish their rights and claims, and the other that wishes to join us—as an ally as well as resident of the area."

"That extends to an alliance with the Inquisition?" Josephine asked.

"Yes." Keeper nodded. Josephine let her smile come out and she looked to Zanrye, who had to smile back at her.

"I will be leaving most of my instruction to take place via my Ambassador Lady Montilyet, as I have said." Zanrye told them formally now. "You've assured me that is fine?"

"I have. With my condition of course." Keeper said, eyeing the woman. "I would have my own chronicler with her as well. And one of my guards will oversee the processions." That sounded agreeable to Zanrye but then something bothered him. He squirmed a bit.

"Will we be requiring our own guard, Keeper?" He asked the man, eyes searching.

"The guard will be there for our protection." Keeper said kindly. "We are to be not only on your territory but with only a few members ready to defend should any attack happen. I know you would not wish that," Zanrye had opened his mouth to protest, "but you can't be there to police everything that goes on in your Inquisition."

That was what Zanrye had been thinking. He nodded, sighing and continuing, "And when my Ambassador journeys to the Oasis—to your territory?"

"Then by all means, she may bring an escort." Keeper said. "I trust you will manage to keep the escort within cultural bounds."

"I can." Zanrye nodded, and he would most definitely be sending her with at least two elven soldiers—maybe Solas too when he could spare him.

"I have to get back to the Oasis soon." Keeper informed him. "But all documents have been signed and I will leave my chronicler Molepna here with guard Tiana to watch over him."

Zanrye stood and Josephine escorted the Keeper to the door while Molepna bent over the different papers that remained, two copies of everything. Tiana smiled up at the Inq.

"You look tired." She said.

"I am." He responded. "I'm glad you seem to have seen better day though. How've you fared since the temple was opened?"

"Nicely, as you no doubt know." Tiana laughed softly. "We've made a lot of progress. Missed your company though. And your dance moves."

"I haven't had time to do much dancing." Zanrye said tiredly.

"You should try every now and again." She said. "Find time. Come to the temple. We're always ready to find a reason to have a gentle night."

"You know I can't find time for that." Zanrye said to her wryly.

"Not for me?" Tiana winked. She was flirting—but playfully. Zanrye couldn't help but grin at it and shook his head in response again. She rolled her eyes, her smile mischievous. "Alright Inquisitor. But I don't see how you'll be able to find much fun outside of me."

"I think I'll manage." Zanrye laughed.

"With who?" Tiana crossed her arms, ready for more banter. "I don't see any other lovely elven ladies in your service. None of these shem wenches count and Sera is—"

The look on Zanrye's face stopped her midsentence. At the word, his eyes widened and it made him give her a look to be quiet as he remembered they were not alone. Josephine was seeming to absent-mindedly read through the papers, waiting for him.

She was only a few feet away. There was no way in all of Thedas that she didn't hear them.

And yet she did not make it known that she did. Zanrye moved from the desk now, giving Tiana a look before he came to stand before Josephine. She looked up at him with a blank face but the light tinge in her cheeks gave her away. She'd heard, alright. _Fuck_.

"I…trust that you can take care of things from here, Josephine." He said to her softly. She nodded to him, only the color in her cheeks betraying her. He paused and managed, "I will ensure that proper conduct is upheld during this process." He promised her.

"Of course." She said as if she had no idea what he was referencing and Zanrye's tiredness came once more. He wasn't in the mood to play the game. And he also was starting to feel like shit, from his exhaustion as well as his guilt. He nodded to Tiana and the chronicler and then left the room.

He walked through the foyer and out into the upper courtyard, seeking somewhere quiet to gather his thoughts before the next things on his list.

What he found was bad news that rocked him.

He had gone to the side post near the stables and the tavern where she usually was. He looked into the empty rooms and to the battle dummies, brow furrowed. He asked a scout, two guards, and even Cullen. And finally the mysterious boy Cole—who Zanrye had barely said three words to after allowing him to stay—gave him the answer.

Cassandra was gone.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Zanrye tried to be understanding as Josephine paced before him in her office. He walked in on her looking distressed and for a moment, he thought it was because of earlier and he wanted to run back out. But it wasn't. It was for a different matter entirely that had him wrestling to make sense of it and put importance to it. After the subterfuge from Mother Giselle on account of Dorian's family and Cassandra's disappearance, he didn't think he could take much more of this. And now Josephine was talking about her rich family's "plummet." He almost tuned her out but then she looked at him with those eyes. He paused, considering what he had listened to.

"Um…so, what can I…we…do about that, Josephine?" He asked, trying to sound attentive.

"I negotiated a chance to reinstate the Montilyets as landed traders in Orlais." She sighs. "We could rebuild with that…." She sighs again and her face contorted and her words peaked Zanrye's interest instantly. "But when I dispatched paperwork to Val Royeaux…. I just learned …that my carriers were murdered. And the documents…restoring my family's trading status were destroyed."

He was shocked and some weird adrenaline seemed to take over his system and he was suddenly wide awake. There was a threat, a threat that'd been directed at Josephine. It was as if some animal—maybe the Dread Wolf himself—had been birthed in Zanrye's chest.

"Who did it?" Zanrye asked sharply. His face was darkening.

"Leliana was able to find a contact." Josephine said. "Comte Boisvert claims to know who killed them and why. And this…this is why I am telling you." She inhaled. "His only request is that you come with me when I meet him so that he may be seen publicly with you."

"And what will that do?" Zanrye arched a brow, suspicious. "What does he want?"

"Allies and rivals will take note if he is visited by one such as yourself." Josephine said reasonably. "He will be using us but…." Zanrye had no concerns.

"If meeting him is what it takes to find out who's murdering your people, of course I'll come with you." Zanrye said, straightening. And gladly he would. An anger was already beginning to grow within him. He couldn't believe it. Someone had attacked them…attacked Josephine more explicitly. He was oddly protective of her; he couldn't remember being this protective before—or perhaps he never had the chance or reason to before. But now…now someone was after his Ambassador… _a woman you care about_ ….

"Thank you Inquisitor!" She practically squealed. "It means…you are too kind. I will arrange things immediately."

She was going to return to her desk when Zanrye reached out to stop her with a hand on her arm. She seemed startled by him and her bright, strange eyes came to rest on his own. He held the stare for a moment before he spoke.

"This isn't a kindness." He said simply, his voice hard. "And it isn't a question—or a favor for you. You don't need to ask me for help." She started to speak but he kept going. "I need you to know this. There is no question." His voice lowered further, his anger slipping in. "If someone poses threat to you, I'll handle them.

He was not opening a discussion but telling her how things would go. Josephine's eyes were surprised and she nodded shortly and slowly. But there was a flush in her face and a look in her eyes that told of her awe. Zanrye released her and she walked slowly to her desk, her eyes on him as he left her office.

* * *

PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

Zanrye wanted to instantly go to Val Royeaux, go looking for Cassandra in wherever, and mostly fall down and go to sleep but they had been summoned and Dorian was ready. He took Vivienne and Sera with him as well, leaving Solas to watch over Skyhold in his stead (what with Josephine preoccupied herself). The two stood guard a ways away as Zanrye and Dorian entered.

He was surprised to see the man himself—with vague resemblance to his Tevinter mage ally. Dorian's shock and anger dwarfed Zanrye's own. The man gave a weary sigh as Dorian threw out accusations and Zanrye felt his own defensiveness build up. He didn't quite know their history but the man had just tricked them into coming, refusing—as Dorian pointed out—to be seen with either of them, Zanrye included.

"Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be angry." He said, voice hard, arms crossed across his chest.

"Oh and that's not even the half of it." Dorian said to him, eyes on fire like Zanrye had never seen them. He turned them on his father and said lowly, "And maybe you should know…."

"Dorian…" His father's voice was warning. "There is no need to—"

"I enjoy the company of men. My father disapproves."

The statement was dropped with a voice filled with disappointment and venom. The words did not match and for a moment, Zanrye was stunned to silence. He'd already begun to have an inkling that Dorian might prefer at least both women and men, seeing the comments he made about Cullen and the like, but…was this…where the rift was coming from? Was this something that had caused such hatred between him and his family?

"So it's because you…" Zanrye spoke too slowly and Dorian got testy with him.

"Did I stutter?" His eyes narrowed. "Men and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it." He couldn't even help having good comebacks when he was furious beyond coherence. Zanrye tried to re-stabilize himself.

"This isn't…news, Dorian." Zanrye said, trying to keep his voice calmer and his response quick.

"It shouldn't be." Dorian said darkly. "Why anyone should care, I have no idea."

But Zanrye did have an idea why people would care—or, why elves would…but he also knew there was more to this. If he'd learned anything about the different shem cultures, it was that the northerners and those in Orlais could be expected to have those types of quirks. Many would engage with whomever they desired, though reproduction was still had in a large enough capacity. Only in Ferelden were the shems there less likely to behave in that way. He even knew a few Dalish tribes had elves who also shared that quirk and preferred both the women and men on occasion. There had been no such occurrences in his own tribe. That type of thing was not… present in elves untouched by the influence of shems…. In all honesty, his Clan and others would deem this double-taste quirk a "shemmy" thing in itself since it mainly occurred in city elves and was not mentioned at all in the tales of the ancient elven peoples.

"I take it…this is a big problem in Tevinter?" He asked tentatively.

"Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard." Dorian said bitterly. "Intermarrying, eugenics…trying to create the perfect mage; perfect body…mind…. Perfect leader."

His anger was palpable and Zanrye could sense a strange kind of…pity…rising within him. Not because he didn't understand where the dad was coming from—already he did. Dalish society viewed these quirks as 'not elfy.' Truth be told, the idea Dorian presented was completely foreign to him—of only connecting to the same sex. The few elves who carried the double-taste irregularity were uncommon. Those like Sera who exclusively enjoyed their own sex…were more than rare. Never in his life had Zanrye encountered that among the Dalish. The double-taste elves ended up continuing on the elven line. He'd never seen what would happen to an odd-taste.

But Dorian's words continued to move him anyway. His situation continued to weigh on Zanrye, who tried to figure why. They hadn't had any of odd-taste in his clan yet this scene resonated with him on another level…. The words seemed to carry with them the echoes of other words, more often said within his own clan and many others.

Not about fondness for one the same as you. But rather for one entirely different….

"Every aberration or deviance is seen as shameful and must be hidden." Dorian spit out the last word and. He seemed to be spewing years of pent up frustration. " _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind;' those are  his words." He paced. "But what was the first thing you did when your heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?"

The question hung as Dorian's face went from angry to hurt and Zanrye suddenly felt affection for the man that he never felt before. Beyond pity…beyond empathy.

"You tried to—change me." Dorian said. And Zanrye knew instantly what he meant.

"I only wanted what was best for you—" his father started and it took all of Zanrye's self-control not to interject.

"You wanted what was best for you." Dorian shot back. "For you fucking legacy! Anything for that!" His words held hate and he walked from his father, walking to Zanrye, head cast down. He was making moves to leave, Zanrye saw. Leave it…like this.

"You can't…" Zanrye heard himself say softly. "You can't leave it like this Dorian…." The man lowered a glaring gaze at him which Zanrye held. "You…won't forgive yourself." With reluctance, Dorian walked over to where his father stood.

"Why did you come?" He asked flatly.

"I had no wish to drive you to the Inquisition—" the man started.

"You didn't." Dorian said, almost exasperated. "Joining the Inquisition is the right thing to do. And once…I had a father who would have known that."

He was done. He didn't even look at Zanrye as he headed for the door. Zanrye made to follow him when the man spoke.

"Once…my son trusted me…but I betrayed that trust." The man said and Dorian turned back. "I only wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice again…to ask—to ask for forgiveness." The old face was battling tears. Zanrye was shocked to find that his eyes, though dry, stung as well. Dorian looked to him, searching for a path and he nodded to him. He left as Dorian approached the man once more, one final attempt. Zanrye gazed before he left the tavern.

Once outside, away from the drama and in the cool air near the Hinterlands, he realized now the comparison. There were no occurrences of this in the Dalish…yet their racial pride was always grounds for slander…for "fixing" those who did not conform.

And Zanrye wholeheartedly believed in that. All his life he had. The blood of the elf was critical and must never be compromised. The Dalish were their only hope. The city elves were tainted, most of them. And a Dalish who carried such a taint was even worse. He'd spit on those who did, could not even begin to understand them.

Until he became tainted himself…. "Just one," "just this once," "just her," were not good excuses. He and many of his kin had laughed at such and sneered at the city elves who used them or the rumored Dalish exiles who were found out to have acquired a taste for the shemlen.

And now here he was…denying his feelings…while giving into them at every turn, plowing this shem with gifts and attention and consideration. If any in his clan knew (outside of the likes of Nishia or Po if he was alive), he may no longer be able to claim clan Lavellan. He'd never seen it happen…but somehow he knew it to be true. They'd mourn him, berate him, maybe even try to …"change him." 'Why should anyone care,' Dorian had asked. And for the greatest sin for all Dalish, Zanrye could think of every reason for people to care…why they should care. All that happened between them and the shems…their positions in Thedas…. How dare anyone think it okay to compromise the Dalish legacy? How dare he?

And like with Dorian being son of a magister, Zanrye now had position—true importance. The world was looking at him now and every decision would have effects outside of just himself. He would have to represent all Dalish, to carry elves into the light—like the fabled Grey Warden of old (was he a fiction or truth). He knew he needed to show a strong, Dalish union, represent his people right. He couldn't afford to have this deviation…to be chasing after shem fruit. And yet he did…. Yet he wanted to.

Zanrye prayed for Dorian's success with his father as he made his way back to Skyhold.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Two days later, Zanrye stormed into Skyhold with Josephine in tow. She kept trying to speak to him but he would not have it. Blood stained his armored front. He walked into the war room and instantly confronted Leliana.

"Please." Josephine was nearly begging. "This can all come to an end without—"

"Josephine, be quiet." Zanrye snapped, voice hard. She glared at him, throwing her hands up. He turned to Leliana. "I want your people to find this contract and destroy it. And if you have to kill any in this 'House Riposte' on the way, do that as well."

"This is not the way I want it to be." Josephine told her friend. "The contract is so old and if we simply reinstate them—"

"When they ordered hits on your people? On you?" Zanrye glared at her.

"This is not the way things are done and this could very well make a bad situation worse." Josephine said earnestly.

"It would be quicker to simply eliminate the threat." Leliana said to them.

"Exactly." Zanrye glared. "We go to this meeting only to be greeted by not the Comte but an imposter—an assassin at that."

"Who you killed though he was only giving us fair warning." Josephine said.

"Fair warning and a threat." Zanrye rolled his eyes at her. "Leliana…if you don't dispatch people, I'll go and do it myself."

"I'm behind you Inquisitor. Josephine wants to go about this the long, hard way." Leliana said, inclining her head towards him, walking to the war room. "Whenever you're ready, I am."

"This is not the best way! There is more risk in that than…you must…" Josephine sighed heavily. "This is too much risk to put on yourselves and the Inquisition. This is my own family affair and I will not let the Inquisition forces face this."

"It's not entirely your decision, Josephine." Leliana said somewhat slyly. "You are the Ambassador and your problems, now that they threaten your life, have become the problems of the Inquisition."

"This matter regards my family's fortunes—"

"I'm not going to have assassins plotting against you or your family line." Zanrye said bluntly.

There was nothing more to be said. Zanrye nodded to Leliana who began walking to the table and bending over notes about the house she'd already accumulated. Josephine stood there, helpless against the two of them, and she sighed, her voice changing, her tactic of argumentation changing.

"I do think that my approach can work." Josephine said simply. "It is my responsibility to oversee my family's affairs, not either of yours."

The guilty approach. It would have worked on him any other time but this time it only had him loosen his stance very slightly but level her with an intense stare.

"I'm not taking control from you." Zanrye said. "It's your family and your own call. But to protect you from danger, as Inquisitor, I am taking steps to protect the organization and one of my most trusted members of it. These assassins are a threat."

Josephine gave him a look of resignation and she shook her head.

"Oh cheer up Josie." Leliana said. "Let us help you. Use whatever reasons you want if you can't stomach us risking resources for you."

The knock on the door startled them all. Zanrye called for the person to come in. A scout. Again. He scurried to Zanrye's side and whispered in his ear. Zanrye sighed and looked to Leliana.

"Get your people on it." He said and then looked at Josephine. "Let me help you." He paused. "Things will turn out fine."

He followed the scout up the tower library, the man chattering away about when Dorian had finally returned and where he was now.

"Alright, alright." Zanrye told him at the entrance to the alcove. "Have some tact and leave us why don't you?"

The scout turned red and scurried off, muttering to himself about procedure. Zanrye sighed and approached the man tentatively. Dorian was gazing out the window, composed but with eyes that were sad and tired. He didn't even acknowledge the Inquisitor's presence before he began.

"He says we're alike." Dorian said, not needed to introduce the 'he' spoken of, "Too much pride. It's funny…once, I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that to me. Now," at this he looks to Zanrye, "now I'm not so certain. Now…I don't know if I can forgive him."

Zanrye held back a sigh and stepped toward the man, leaning against a tower of books himself.

"When you said he tried to change you…that was with magic?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"I refused to marry the girl he chose, put on a show and lock who I was away with the rest of me that was deemed unsavory." Dorian said, eyes on the horizon. "It was no doubt selfish…not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside…for the good of the family." His voice turns as if he can still hardly believe what he's saying, "He was going to do a blood ritual, alter my mind. When I found out, I left."

"Can…blood magic actually do that?" Zanrye's voice was hushed.

"Maybe." The softness of Dorian's voice made Zanrye's body ache. "It could also have left me a drooling vegetable…. He chose that risk…over scandal." He sighed heavily. "I can't imagine who I'd be if it'd happened…I don't…I don't think I'd like that Dorian."

"Are you…are you going to be alright?" He asked. "After all that…was said."

"No." Dorian said hollowly, words piercing to Zanrye's heart like one of Sera's arrows. "Not really." He turned to Zanrye fully now, his face clearing only enough to make room for appreciation. "Thank you for telling me to go…for coming with me. I didn't know what I expected but…now I have something." As Zanrye nodded, Dorian gave a laugh. "Maker knows what you must think of me now—after all that I said…did…."

Zanrye stared at him, and the man stared back with tired eyes, ashamed eyes, eyes that seemed… oddly, to mirror Zanrye's own but were still different; they were battle-weary and seemed to be a little lighter…the burden of fear…no longer present….

"I think…" Zanrye paused. "I think you're very brave, Dorian."

The tevinter mage's eyes lit up and he nearly cocked his head, uttering, "Brave?" Zanrye gave a low nod, not quite able to meet the other man's eyes for a good while. But then he did. He had to —to see what he was not.

"It isn't easy…to abandon tradition." Zanrye said slowly. "Where you lived…being the son of a Magister…." He couldn't keep eye contact. "You chose to walk your own path, to follow the truth rather than denying it…no matter what it meant…in the reality you were born into."

Dorian's gaze told Zanrye that he knew, or at least suspected, that Zanrye was empathetic. He seemed to ponder the words. And then he had a small smile creep onto his face.

"Well," his lofty voice returned though mellower than usual, "I suppose my bravery has earned me the right to drink myself into a stupor. Been that sort of day. But…if you've a mind…or a care…you can join me. Whenever you'd like."

The man left Zanrye on that and the Inquisitor found himself yet rooted, feeling like a friend...but a failure.

* * *

PRESENT

VAL ROYEAUX

The news came three days later, just two days before the peace talks were to start. And Josephine had gone to Val Royeaux to formally meet with the traders. It was a success. Everything was a success. For once, Zanrye felt as if he could sigh with relief. It was another matter at least subdued if not altogether taken care of. Now if he could just locate Cassandra before he popped a blood vessel….

He now waited for her at the harbor, where one ship was pulling in. He saw her come out, watched her bid the man she spoke to adieu. Her gaze turned toward the setting sun and the ships moving to and fro. And her eyes were sad. Guilt crept into Zanrye and he felt the urge to go to her and leave her alone as well. But then she leaned against the side…and Zanrye's compulsion to go to her was too great. So he did.

"You'll be able to get your ships in within the month then?" He asked lightly. Josephine didn't move, merely looked out at the water.

"Yes." She said softly. Her face was closed as she followed, "and thus we outwit the house of Riposte." She did not sound happy or sad but longing.

"It's not pleasant…" Zanrye said, almost warily. "But you're safe…and you're free from the Assassins and the nobles…."

"I do know that the Assassin Guild was probably filled with all kinds of unsavory individuals Inquisitor." Josephine said to him softly. "I just…." She said nothing, just looked and Zanrye resigned to look with her. He knew he'd done the right thing…eliminate the threat…but….

"Did I mention…I used to be a bard?" Josephine asked. Zanrye's head turned to hers as her own turned to look on him.

"You were a singer?" He asked, incredulous.

"That is the official job." She said, turning so her back was to the rail and water. "They sing and entertain, converse…spy. It was common for young nobles to practice The Game in such a fashion, through the avenue of a bard."

"And is that why you joined on?" He asked her.

"I was attending university in Val royeaux when I learned about them and their true purposes." Josephine said, smiling now. "There was…an air of romance about them: secrets and stories and fascinating people!" She giggled. "A group of us—young gentry from Antiva—decided on this …exciting life." Zanrye hesitated.

"You seem a bit…" She began to smirk and he had to grin as he finished, "steady…for that type of lifestyle." Her laugh was short but solid.

"It did not suit me well at all." She agreed but then her face darkened and she crossed her arms around herself. "During one intrigue, I…there was another bard who was sent to kill my patron." She looked Zanrye dead in his eyes and he could see the formidableness in her gaze. "We fought, or perhaps scrapped is the appropriate word. Either way…we were at the top of a steep flight of stairs and he drew a knife, the other bard. I—I pushed him, away from me." Her gaze left him face, regret written in her eyes. Zanrye had felt many things for this woman but pity was not really one of them. But it was there now. He paused, and then spoke his mind.

"I don't…see the fault. You protected yourself and your patron from him." He said.

"But it was such a waste!" Josephine said, voice now fierce like he'd never heard it before. Her eyes were grief-stricken but firm. "I took off his mask…I knew him. I…I…" she inhaled. "If I'd stopped to reason, if I'd used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…." She exhales and then composes, "I always wonder…even now…who that man could have grown into…."

Zanrye eyed her for a long second before he replied.

"He seemed willing enough to murder you for the Game." He said bluntly. "He seemed willing enough to scrap…. You may have ended up dead had you not acted."

"And yet what could have been gained had I paused…would he have actually used the blade?" Josephine countered. "Death…is a permanent solution to a problem and doesn't always open as many avenues…or carry as far…as the voice does."

"I don't think violence is the answer to everything Josephine." Zanrye said earnestly now. He would not let her eyes wander from his. "I don't think that at all. But I know…I know…what second-guessing can do, what stopping for those moments can do. His death may be a waste, yes, but think of how much greater yours would have been…to everyone in the Inquisition." She blinks, her face softening. "Sometimes, violence is the only way to gain certainty. Words and even contracts can be voided…and then more is lost than one, or two, or ten…lives." He looks down now. "And with this…I stand by my decision. Because I'd rather protect you, and take care of the threat instead of relying on the words of those who show they want to do you harm." He inhales and looks at her, "And I don't want to have to apologize for that…."

He was tense and he saw understanding slip into her eyes. She seemed to weigh his words and she nodded slowly.

"And you don't." She said. "Everything is solved…you acted as you saw fit…and though it may not have been how I wanted, it was still what I wanted." She sighed, scoffing. "I don't even… I don't believe that I have even thanked you. For your part in this. For helping me." And her eyes truly did look like she appreciated him. Zanrye spoke the words before he could process them, the syllables easily slipping from his mouth.

"I've told you that it isn't a favor." He said, his eyes reflecting the intenseness he felt in that moment, staring at her face, _beautiful and kind_. "I would do this again, in a heartbeat." Her tense neck gave her away. He saw the tinges of red appear in her cheeks, the red that mirrored that of his own ears.

"I…" her voice was breathier and sent chills into Zanrye the moment she uttered one word. "You have done much for us—the Inquisition…and for me in this personal matter, I…."

"Josephine," he half laughed. "You deserve nothing less from me…." He realized he was leaning towards her as he continued, "You're a very…" _wonderful, incredible, ideal_ "remarkable woman, Josephine…." She giggled nervously with him, sounds that had Zanrye swallowed up in seconds, enthralled with her. He couldn't help but to imagine her now as a singer.

"Such talk." She chided softly, attempting to regain composure and failing, her hands coming together before her. "I'm—I'm…quite overcome…." They were very close—at least how Zanrye could see. His voice came out deeper and lower than he thought it would.

"So am I…." He said, eyes earnest, only being able to see her there before him, too close to him by his own doing. She did not reach out to him but seemed to be magnetically pulling him closer and closer to her….

"Zan, I…" Her voice said his name in a dazed tone that at once made Zanrye want to reach out and grab her and kiss her. The urge was strong. His body was reading hers. _Her lips, slightly puckered. Her eyes, dilated, keep trailing from your eyes to your body._ Her stance, one of tantalizing demureness, her hand bracing on the rail beside them.

"Do you want me to stop?" He practically whispered, the question nearly rhetorical, serving only to heighten the erotic tension already present, his ears ready and needy for her to tell him not to.

"Oh, no." She breathed, her head shaking and a minor swoon taking her. The sight alone nearly drove Zanrye insane and he knew he leaned in further but then her voice kept stuttering out, "I mean—I mean yes!" He paused in his tracks as she kept on gibbering. "I meant no! I mean…I don't…" She stared at him and then out to the sea and just like that the spell was broken. She huffed and turned to face him, hands now clasped before her, composure obtained. "Well. If you meant to draw a blush to my cheeks, you have completely succeeded." She cleared her throat and turned to look ahead towards the road. "Come. Let us…let us return to Skyhold before anyone notices us."

She took lead. Zanrye numbly followed her, his face as red as hers; but there was a self-satisfied smirk present on his face as well.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

It was only a day before the peace talks when he finally got the notice from Bull. He went down the steps 2/3 at a time and then made it to the old reading room, where Cassandra sat, fresh out of her armor and into her day clothes. She sat, looking at a lit fire. Zanrye was beyond relieved. But he was also annoyed. He walked in and stood before her.

"Well?" He asked her. Cassandra slowly looked up at him. "Where have you been?"

"There was…something I needed to do." Cassandra said slowly.

"Cassandra, you can't just run off." Zanrye said testily. "I needed you here—as did everyone else. Where the hell where you? No word? No warning? You didn't think that I would come looking for you—that I'd be worried that something happened to you? What were you trying to accomplish? And why be secretive about it to begin with?"

Cassandra's head turned to look upon him and Zanrye was stopped midrant by her expression. But they were both warriors. They understood the need for something comprehensive, not an abstract throwaway like the one Cassandra had given.

"Where did you go?" He asked finally, arms crossed, leaning against a beam supporting the roof above them.

"You remember when I told you of my brother Anthony?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes. Dragon hunters…." Zanrye responded.

"Yes…" She gave a dry laugh. "The profiles of those the Seekers needed to take out have become my own dragons now…among other things." She sighed. "I can never thank you enough for your help…taking care of those apostates and templars."

"That was months ago." Zanrye said to her, voice engaging but thin. "That's old news. I'm worried about what's been happening now…why you ran off. You said we'd gotten all of—"

"We did." Cassandra cut him off. "And yet…the reason behind us having to take on those cases was because of the Seeker's silence on the matter."

Her face was closed and she sighed heavily, her burdens coming to bear. Another burden. Another problem. Zanrye sat beside her now and laced his hands together. He waited for her, saying nothing. Finally, she began to speak.

"I…should have told you where I was going. For that I apologize." Cassandra said. "But I knew you would be alright without me for a few days. I did not think I would be gone for more." She sighed. "I was tracking down the Seekers."

"How could you do that?" Zanrye asked. "The Lord Seeker—"

"Is but one member of the Order." Cassandra said. "And even he, the true Lord Seeker Lucius, has escaped us. When the red Templars attacked Haven, not one seeker was in their midst. The Seekers seem to have vanished from the face of Thedas."

"Why do you want to find them now?" Zanrye asked. "I understand this is your…old order outside the Inquisition but…why now?" She sighs long at this question and looks to him with a grave expression.

"I have a growing suspicion that Corypheus has imprisoned the Seekers." She said.

"Imprisoned?" Zanrye asked dubiously. "Not killed?"

"They could in fact be dead." Cassandra said. "But I cannot yet believe they are."

"And you think Corypheus has them somehow imprisoned?" Zanrye couldn't understand this theory quite yet.

"Resources. Just like with the Templars." She explained.

"Then they could be infected like the Templars." He said seriously.

"Seekers do not use lyrium Zanrye." Cassandra said, a bit annoyed she had to remind him. "If he wished to corrupt the Seekers, lyrium must be forced upon them." She looks ahead. "That may have happened…but it would not have begun that way." She rubs her head. "There's… something missing here."

Zanrye looked to his Second, his Seeker, his right-hand, his…friend.

"Finding them means a lot to you." He stated, eyeing her knowingly.

"I may have left the order but I will not abandon them." Cassandra said firmly. "And the seekers started the war against the mages. They would not have simply vanished." She paused now and her voice changed slightly; she adopted a bartering tone. "I cannot assure that rescuing them would benefit us. They certainly would not look upon the Inquisition favorably. However, if there is even a chance that we may…"

Zanrye exhaled loudly but had to turn a smile on the woman.

"If you want to find them, we'll find them Cassandra." He said kindly and he saw the woman's face soften as he lent his approval and offered his help in the same breath.

"If we could." She said. "I know that we have other duties to attend to…."

"Right." Zanrye remembered and gave her a glare that was light. "We have to prepare for the peace talks with Celene and Gaspard. For the next two days, I need you to put the Seekers out of your mind and focus with Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine about making sure our people get in there, making sure we're set up, making sure we know all we need to know; you know how this all goes."

"Of course." Cassandra huffed and shook her head. "Never a moment's rest."

"Not when you're in my small council." Zanrye promised her and then stood but came to rest a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. "We'll deal with this as soon as the threat to Celene has been handled. I give you my word, Cassandra." She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "All that you've gathered from your tracking, you write down and give to Leliana and she can dispatch people while we're away alright?"

"Yes Inquisitor." She said, standing as well, her face fierce with appreciation and hope. Zanrye moved his hand from her but the support was there. He sighed. She hesitated. "You…may want to sit out of the meetings until tomorrow…. You look like you could do with some sleep."

The comment made Zanrye laugh—too loud. Cassandra was startled but he kept laughing, his tiredness presumably making him delirious.

"I'll do that." He grinned, rubbing his eyes. "You can all inform me of the plans tomorrow." He made his way to the door and then stopped in front of it, turning to her. "And I don't want to hear of any more problems until then. Much as I like you all, I am thoroughly done with listening and tending to the needs of the masses." And with that, he went to his room and made sure to doubly latch both doors.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

We have arrived at the Winter Palace segment. (not doing bull or sera's quests)

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

Information about the Dalish is scarce but the idea that they do not acknowledge and rarely ever practice bisexuality (and would most likely not tolerate exclusive homosexuality) is mostly lore-driven. [See gay/bixexual elven figures in DA:O, DAII, and DAI as well as vague information in World of Thedas].

Elven racism and adherence to reproductive powers is also lore-driven. The worst thing an elf can do is be with a non-elf, a shem being the worst possible choice. Elven blood is also sacred and because their children do not carry their phenotype, they are even more sensitive and disparaging to elf+other matings. (of course this view varies from clan to clan, though the overwhelming majority [as my Clan Lavellan is made to represent] have this view)

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Tiana- (girl) Clan Biloro

Keeper Mithlanel= (boy) Clan Biloro


	12. Winter Palace (Peace Talks Pt1)

WINTER PALACE

The palace loomed over them as the Inquisition party made their way into Halamshiral and further, to the doorstep of the Winter Palace. Zanrye couldn't keep it hidden that he was impressed by the site: cream, marble walls, gold thread, reflecting the blue of the sky, with the front courtyard filled with statues and statuettes of animals and humans alike. Fountains squirted water into pools and the entire court was filled with people dressed to the nines in silks and velvets and masks hiding everyone's identity.

All, save for the Inquisition. Vivienne had gotten them formal attire, red uniforms with golden shoulder pads and gloves, blue sashes completing the ensemble. Decorous, slightly militaristic but yet with airs of grace. Zanrye felt important in the clothes. And beyond dignified. He felt lush and fine, and couldn't help but let it get to his head a bit. The cool air seemed to only lightly breeze through the courtyard, filled with the smell of flowers and wines and perfumes.

The gates opened for them and the Duke Gaspard greeted them each in turn, starting with the Inquisitor. As soon as Zanrye saw him, he knew why Cassandra and Cullen seemed to favor him. He talked like a war revolutionary. To be honest, Zanrye himself was drawn to the man, a stark contrast to the syrupy Orlesians around him. But even his bluntness seemed edged, selfish, and bordering aggressive.

The whole Inquisition could not come with them obviously. Though all of his small council had been asked along, Zanrye took Solas (given) as well and also brought Vivienne and Dorian. If anyone could survive amongst the shems and aid him in his endeavors here, it was the two of them. Vivienne was a natural, a professional and Dorian had the Tevinter equivalent.

"Lovely." He heard both of them say upon Gaspard's departure from the conversation. Zanrye almost smiled to himself. And then from some corner of the beautiful courtyard he heard it, as he expected to hear it sometime tonight, "an elven savage!? Maker, forbid!" He knew it was the first of many slanderous insults to come. Trying not to roll his eyes, Zanrye did not let the whispers reach past his rich, regal uniform, tailored to fit nicely on his body.

"I'm going to have a look around before we go inside." He said to Solas softly. "Keep an eye out for anything." He paused. "And don't let yourself be made to get someone a drink."

"I don't intend to." Solas chuckled. "But…what do you think? About this Briala woman? The elven Ambassador. When do you think we'll see her?"

"I'll go ask Gaspard on my way in." Zanrye smirked. "No doubt he knows."

He walked upon the shiny, starlit stones surrounded by the masked peoples, whispering. He was the Inquisitor but he was also a "rabbit" (how Zanrye hated that word. It was a condescending way to speak "acceptingly" of elves, comparing them to fluffy, unfrightening, and controllable animals). He could  
attention, perhaps not knowing who he was. He stared at her as she rambled on about a ring, slowly leaving her with generalizing sentiments. Moments later, he observed a glint within the uniformed green and red in the bush. He eyed the space and sifted through the foliage before a gaudy, bright ring came to his attention. Debating a second, he finally picked it up and walked back to the woman.

"Try not to lose anything else." Zanrye warned.

"Helping those less fortunate, Inquisitor?" Gaspard's voice rang out. The woman was soon muttering apologies and walking away as she realized she'd just ordered around the Inquisitor. Zanrye knew the man would come for him. He hadn't yet made his pitch.

"Merely giving the people a taste of the Inquisition's abilities to find what's lost—fix what's broken." Zanrye replied, a tone of doubletalk and ruse coming to his voice with this man. By the Creators, it was time to play this game!

"Hm." Gaspard said approvingly. "Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with full support from the rightful ruler of Orlais?"

"And which one is that?" Zanrye asked bluntly. "I keep forgetting, it changes every day."

"Why, the handsome, charming one of course." Gaspard smirked. "I am not a man who forgets his friends Inquisitor. You help me, I help you."

"Well, we'll see if you give me a reason to invest." Zanrye said back. Gaspard merely smiled.

"I have no doubts there will be many reasons. At any rate, you'll enter the ball alongside me." He said. "Although…I warn you…these peace talks are not as innocent as they seem." He is now serious. "The…elf Briala…she plans to disrupt negotiations presumably. Her "Ambassadors" are stationed everywhere and sabotage seems the least of their crimes." Zanrye bristled.

"So basically…the elves are acting dodgy huh?" He crossed his arms.

"The Ambassador used to be a servant of Celene's." Gaspard's voice was hard. This was surprising. Zanrye's eyes widened unintentionally as Gaspard went on, "That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in the room wishes Celene harm, it's that elf. She has reasons." He stopped, noticing that Josephine was approaching the two of them. "Whenever you are ready, Inquisitor. We will head in."

As he went up the steps, Zanrye turned to Josephine. She was dressed as he was and for once without a dress/skirt covering her trousers. She looked crisp. He watched her as she ascended.

"Solas said we would find you here." She said. Her voice carried the weight of her mental strategizing that was taking place. "We have only a few more minutes before we should go to Gaspard. I thought that perhaps you were…exploring. I would…urge you not to do so too frequently. Your approval at court is…tentative."

"I have an approval rating?" Zanrye nearly laughed until he realized she was serious.

"Yes. And that approval rating is ever rising and dropping and should be taken into consideration before you make any moves." She said, heading up the steps with him as they walked to the main doors. "Leliana and I can together give a rough estimation. Due to your…background," she stuttered at this, "you will already be looked upon with suspicion and wariness."

"So where do I stand then?" He asked.

"On what scale?"

"Let's say one to ten." Zanrye said. "Or…percent. 1 to 100."

"I would say you have very low approval." She said factually. "In fact, as low as perhaps… 30% about." Zanrye was flabbergasted. "This can be changed during the course of the night but—"

"Blighted Orlesians." He rolled his eyes, standing straight. "Alright then…let's go in."

"Inquisitor." She said fiercely. "How you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is not a matter of just etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for even the slightest sign of weakness." He eyed her.

"You keep giving me such wonderful news." He said sarcastically. "I think I'll survive our friends. I'm already Dalish. They can't hate me any more than they already do."

"The Game is like wicked grace played to the death, Inquisitor." Josephine urged. "Just…never tell your cards. When you meet the empress…the eyes of the entire court will be upon you." She sighed heavily. "Maker…I think you were safer staring down Corypheus." He eyed her.

"All this worry for my sake, my lady?" He asked her. She just gave him an exasperated sigh, hand on her hip. He laughed. "I'll play nice. This is like ritual—I won't mess it up."

"Still, you're going unarmed." She sighed. "If anything happens to you…." He walked to her, so they were shoulder to shoulder, before he squeezed her arm.

"Don't worry." He said and continued on his course. He could have worn he heard her mutter, "Andraste preserve us" as they entered.

* * *

PRESENT

BALLROOM

"The longest introduction I've ever had to endure." Dorian complained when they had finally been called into the ballroom. "And I've been privy to a number of them."

"Be thankful it did not carry on further." Vivienne said, a light smile ever-present on her face.

"Enjoy the party but remember to stay in position." Zanrye said to them both. He had lost track of Solas. He saw Cassandra walking to her own personal post and stopped her with a tight fist around her arm. "Who is Florianne?" His anger showed on his face. They had been introduced to the Empress alongside yet another sister/cousin, this one being invited by Celene it seemed. The game was going to be hard enough for him to piece together already. He was not anticipating another person and yet here she was, ready to muck things up.

"The sister of the Duke apparently." Cassandra grumbled, knowing where he was going.

"Why didn't we know that she was coming?" Zanrye demanded, hissing lowly. "What's her position here? I wasn't briefed for this."

"That is a matter for Leliana and Josephine." Cassandra said. "They were supposed to have factored in everyone. But she may have been added last minute—or in secret. No matter what, she is just one more factor we have to figure now." As Zanrye sighed, shaking his head at another complication that had come about—as soon as they got here—Cassandra placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him with words not matching, "All we need to do is find the Venatori collaborator and then we're out of here. And I would yet urge you to think on Gaspard's offer."

"He started this civil war." Zanrye said. "That's chaos—exactly what Corypheus wants. Like you've been saying."

"Yes." Cassandra said. "But he is also the leader that Orlais needs, who will recognize the threat and not play to the status quo, throwing balls and writing letters."

"He's got his own reasons for challenging Celene." Zanrye reminded. "And it's still yet to be determined if he truly has his minds towards the Inquisition's battles—not just his own."

"I suppose." Cassandra shrugged. "But whatever happens, I hope you get it done quickly."

Zanrye almost laughed as he left her. She was certainly not going to enjoy herself tonight. Zanrye found himself more on edge due to the threat of the ball than the actual ball itself. It was stuffy and petty and full of lies and deceit, yes. But he was Dalish, interacting with various clans where there would be much milder versions of etiquette displays in order to forge or maintain relations without offending the others' practices. Bluntness and openness only came about after there was an established connection.

"And do stop slouching." He heard Josephine with a shorter woman masked and gowned like the rest. Zanrye slowly walked over to the pair.

"Ambassador." He said, bowing his head to Josephine, as he did not know who the woman she was speaking with was. But he was informed after she let out a squeal and a gasp.

"Josephine! Is this him!?" She cried. Zanrye arched a brow.

"Inquisitor." Josephine sighed, irate. "Please allow me to introduce my younger sister, Yvette Gabriella Montilyet." Zanrye felt a grin creeping onto his face.

"Well, there can never be too many Lady Montilyets in Thedas can there?" He smiled, reaching out to shake the woman's hand while not knowing if that was indeed the proper greeting. Yvette barely noticed.

"I've heard so much about you!" She exclaimed. "But not as much as I want. Josephine writes of course but she never tells me anything." Her face, what little Zanrye could see of it, lit up beneath her mask and she spoke in an oddly loud confiding voice, "Is it true…that you and Josephine are going to elope and move to the Anderfels and join the Grey Wardens and fight the last of the darkspawn?"

Zanrye's surprise made his eyes go wide as he looked at the girl. Josephine's face seemed to have been hit with a tomato, it was so red.

"Yvette!" She hissed, her rage barely contained, refusing to meet Zanrye's eye, whose own face was beginning to get hot as the sister whined, "I want to knoow…." _She tells her family about you…what's she writing? About your horse ride, your gift…your encounter in Val Royeaux_? Zanrye's embarrassment made him grin like an idiot. He didn't even know how to feel at the accusation but played along for the hell of it.

"Well, not quite in that order." He said, a great Cheshire grin on his face. "But I, uh, did pack our bags, didn't I my lady?"

"Inquisitor please, she needs no ammunition." Josephine said, not looking at him still. Zanrye somewhat wanted her to. He knew he couldn't leave, to spare them the embarrassment, so he changed the subject.

"This is the first time I've met a relative of Josephine's." Zanrye said. "What do you do?"

"I've been studying painting under Antiva's royal tutors." She said proudly. "I'm going to be exhibiting my work next season in the city's biggest salon."

"Have you even finished yet?" Josephine asked flatly to which the girl replied, "I must wait for my inspiration." Josephine rolled her eyes, mumbling, "And I for your tutor's bills."

"So you're enjoying the ball?" Zanrye asked them both, eyes on Josephine. Yvette interjected.

"The dancing is so dull, your worship but the gallery is incredible!" She cried. At Josephine's stare she apologized.

"Half of Val Royeaux must be empty." Josephine said to her feet. "All of the finest are in attendance here tonight. They have noticed the empress paying you special attention but do not know what to make of it just yet." She glanced his way. "Approval perhaps 40."

"Oh, I remember when we met the Duke Montague when we were but children!" Yvette gushed.

"Do you have any other stories, Yvette?" Zanrye asked politely. "This may be my only chance to hear of when Josephine was a girl." Yvette's smile held nothing but glee and naivety.

"Oh yes, did she tell you when she was ten—"

"Yvette." Josephine's hard word cut in, her eyes on her sister. "Stop." Her tone was rigid.

"Oh fine. But what about when we climbed the cliffs by the—"

"No." Josephine's word was curt and her eyes were deadly.

"Well she once told the Duke of—"

"Absolutely not." Josephine interjected, to which her sister huffed with a, "then what can I tell him!?" When Josephine opened her mouth, Yvette cried out, "she still plays with her doll collection when no one's looking!" If Josephine's face could get any redder, it did.

"Yvette!" She cried. Finally, her eyes met Zanrye's and the look in them made Zanrye unable to suppress his chuckle. "That's…that's just…absurd. 't…."

"I'm sure." He was unable to stop his grin. "Well…I will leave you two. I have other matters to attend to. I'll talk to you later."

He was glancing around for Leliana, who had told him to have a word with her when he could, but he was unable to find her. He stopped by Vivienne who was speaking with a few nobles.

"My lady." He bowed to her and took her from the group.

"You haven't embarrassed yourself as much as I feared you would my dear." She smirked. "Well done, well done indeed."

"I'm not too uncultured." He smirked at her, accepting condescension. "And you…have you seen Leliana anywhere."

"Went from the ballroom to the vestibule I believe." She said. "But I would give you a bit of warning: we shall need to watch out for Florianne."

"So you're wary of her too?" Zanrye asked. He could trust her court-veteran mind.

"Of course. She is here to play as we all are and has the most mystery clouded around her." She surmised. "She is to be watched closely. She had greater advantage than many here."

"Do you have any advice to give me?" He asked her. "Besides that."

"Talk to everyone. Don't leave a stone unturned. And do remember that you are always, always being watched, love. Oh, and be sure to speak to the council of heralds. They are the highest ranking players in the game. Six are here…the seventh is absent but no matter."

"The game, the game." Zanrye sighed. "You—Josephine, Leliana no doubt…enjoying this."

"Well of course I enjoy it dear." She laughed. "If I didn't, I'd be dead by now." Zanrye expected and respected such an answer. He caught Cullen surrounded by a number of masked women and looking quite uncomfortable. He paused and Vivienne followed his gaze.

"Should I…help him?" He asked. Sexual harassment was thick.

"I will keep an eye on the developments, though they will surely not get too rowdy until much later," Vivienne said, "when the drinks begin to flow."

"Alright." He nodded to her. "Well…make sure he's not kidnapped or anything. I have to go see how much I can find before the greater processions begin. Be ready for my signal."

"Always." She promised and he knew he could believe it.

Zanrye finally made his way to the vestibule, blue doors and gaudy plaques around him. The candles created the perfect scenery. If there was one thing these Orlesians knew how to do, it was build palaces. Maybe Skyhold could look like that one day….

"Good. You're here." The spymaster said to him. He nodded and looked around, making sure they were alone.

"Why didn't you tell me Florianne was coming?" He asked before she had a chance to speak.

"She was an unexpected factor." Leliana said reasonably. "I only knew of her arrival when you did. But she is not all that Celene—or Gaspard—may be hiding." She looks around as well. "What did the Duke say to you?" Zanrye thought back and remembered on the steps. And then the flurry of facts came to him.

"He points the finger at Briala—the Ambassador." Zanrye said. "But…I don't think that she should be our main focus." In truth, he did have his focuses on Briala, if he would ever be able to see her. But he felt secretive about such intentions. He didn't want to put that knowledge in the hands of anyone else yet—not even those in the Inquisition.

"I agree." Leliana said. "The perfect place to strike at Celene is from her side. And our Empress is enamored with mysticism and future-tellings. Rubbish. And she has been seen many times with an "occult advisor" who seemed to captivate the court members." Her voice was hard. "I've had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless. And capable of anything."

"She can just keep an apostate around?" He asked.

"There has always been a position for such." Leliana said. "But Vivienne was the first to make that position something worthy of political power."

"And you think this mage is out to kill Celene?" Zanrye asked. "That she's using blood magic?"

"I cannot be sure of anything yet but she's worth investigating." Leliana said. "Both these leads point us toward the guest wing so that would be a place to start. I'll have my agents on the lookout for anything that can help us further." She stood. "Find me in the ballroom if you have need of me."

With her gone, Zanrye gave himself a minute's pause to think, sitting on the settee that she had just vacated. The situation was messier and there was yet more to be done. There was a tevinter assassin on the loose, there was an apostate who Leliana was wary of, and there was this Florianne who happened to be a part of the peace talks now. Then there was the matter of Celene herself and Gaspard plotting against her (obviously—Zanrye was sure of it with Gaspard being the ambitious man that he was). And then there was the elven Ambassador and her "agents" in the palace whom Gaspard thought were here to disrupt the proceedings. It was a chaos of politics but one he had to sift through to think. Because there was also the possibility that Cassandra had presented: Gaspard could rule the empire. They could let Celene be assassinated of course but try to police the situation, helping move Gaspard into power. Militarily speaking, that would not be too bad of an idea.

But then what about if (and after) Corypheus was defeated? Then where would the Duke be and how would the new Emperor handle affairs? Probably poorly and sloppily. Would he even be grateful to the Inquisition? But did Celene deserve to rule still? Cassandra thought not. Zanrye knew Josephine thought she did. But then Josephine wasn't the biggest risk taker. Now, because Leliana also seemed to think she was worth saving, Celene had a chance with his protection.

But even in the situation with her, as it was with Gaspard, what would be the position of this Briala woman? Zanrye found himself dying to know: what did Gaspard mean when he said Briala had been exiled because of Celene's sloppy politics? Were they in cahoots: Briala and Celene? Did Celene frame her, the servant? He'd heard of elves being the scapegoat many times for shems and this situation wouldn't surprise him. It made him feel disgusted. But then was Gaspard the choice? His sentiments towards the elf were negative to say the least and what would happen to the elves represented by her if Gaspard killed her or hunted her, or exiled her?

Zanrye knew he would get nowhere just by thinking of all the possibilities and so he got to his feet and decided to start getting answers. He still hadn't seen Dorian or Solas since this started and apparently the guest wing was the place to be.

* * *

PRESENT

HALL OF HEROES

He spotted the two as soon as he entered into the "Hall of Heroes" section of the guest wing. The room was decked out with statues and large, wide paintings detailing the epic stories and myths and true historical accounts of all the people of note who had forged Orlais's current existence. Zanrye examined them as he crept closer to the whispering elves. They seemed not to take notice of him and so he did not make himself known. He knew Leliana wanted him to gather information at any rate.

"…the package is in the guest wing. Upper room." One hissed.

"The one off the garden? Statuette?" The other asked and the leader nodded. Zanrye narrowed his eyes. It was not scandalous gossip but news. More happening—where he was headed. He stepped out of his hiding spot and they went silent. He smiled at them encouragingly and they looked away, thought the second gave him a small smile back. He was an elf after all.

He made it out to the long hall with gardens to one side and rooms of art and sofas and candles to the other. He finally saw Solas, leaning against a marble bust wearing an acorn-shaped hat with a nose extension. He looked languid. Zanrye walked up to him, eyebrows raised.

"You ran off." He said. "You alright? Sorry they called you a serving man."

"It's alright." Solas smiled, clearly slightly drunk. "No one has bothered me, just look away. And the servants like to keep my cup filled—I guess out of respect."

"Good." Zanrye said, pausing—smiling but this smile vanished after a few seconds. He hesitated for a bit, just looking at the man, taking him in, his eyes narrowing. Solas stood waiting for him to speak. "Solas…"

"Yes?" the mage asked, confused. Zanrye exhaled and stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"…why in the Creators names…are you wearing that silly ass hat?"

The remark surprised the man and Solas just gave him a stare.

"What's wrong with it?" He asked.

"It's ridiculous for one." Zanrye said seriously. "And it's fucking ugly, for another thing." Solas's smile came and the man chuckled.

"I think it is appropriate attire for such a place: so gaudy and filled with intrigue and plotting." He replied, smirking. "What, you think it will hinder me from getting a dance?" His voice was mocking and sarcastic.

"Yeah." Zanrye said bluntly. "I wouldn't dance with you until you took that stupid thing off." At Solas's laugh, Zanrye sighed and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk away but he was called back. Solas grabbed his hands and placed something in it. The figure was white and slightly bigger than his palm.

"It's a halla." Zanrye remarked.

"It carries magic on it," Solas said. "I've found another like it as well. I feel they may activate certain scenes, unlock certain doors if used in the appropriate places."

"And you think this why?" Zanrye asked.

"I can sense it." Solas said, shrugging. "And I can sense various concentrations of magical focus within other areas of the palace. Whether that's more objects or gateways, we have yet to see. You will find it out for us won't you?"

"I suppose it'll have to be me." Zanrye now smirked. "You're not going to be able to get anything done with that ugly headpiece." Solas gave another laugh and Zanrye shook his head, unable to contain his own laughter. He thanked him. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"If you want to find more useful things, pay attention to the servants. And…explore the gardens. There may be more of those statuettes." Solas told him. Zanrye nodded and kept on his course.

Zanrye went past the lovely, decorated walls and made his way to the right, entering into a scenic vision: gardens, vined-walls, fountains, and people chattering and drinking. He saw Dorian there, chatting up a male (confirmed!). He stepped into the cool air of the night, away from what he now realized was the lightly perfumed and heated indoor area, only to be summoned by three ladies, all dressed alike and all masked. The masks were the only things beginning to frustrate Zanrye. He hated not being able to see the people's faces. It felt like deception.

"My lord Inquisitor, may we have a word?" They asked him. "The Empress has sent us with a message for you."

"And how can I be certain this is from the Empress when I don't know who you are?" Zanrye replied to them blankly.

"We three wear the masks of house Valmont." The leader said. "The Empress's house. We are the public faces of the Empress." Zanrye didn't trust them one bit.

"Well I'm always happy to hear from her." He said lightly, but challengingly.

"The Empress, her majesty, is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste with his holy mission." The third one said.

"She promises to pledge full support to the Inquisition once the usurper Gaspard is defeated." The leader spoke. So this was her pitch. "Her majesty feels the Inquisition is the best hope for peace in these difficult times and looks forward to cementing a formal alliance."

"As soon as Gaspard is out of the way." The second added.

"But we have taken enough of your time. A busy man such as yourself will no doubt need all of it." The leader said and the three curtsied. "Good day Inquisitor."

It was a hit and run and then they were gone as quickly as they'd come. It left Zanrye feeling odd and suspicious. She had not come to him herself but he couldn't expect her to do that or summon him, he supposed. That would all suggest foul play and favoritism. He walked over to Dorian when the man was finally free of the strapping lad.

"Enjoying the night?" He asked him, grinning. Dorian gave a small smile back.

"Well it certainly feels familiar. Half expect my mother to materialize. Criticize my manners."

"Is this similar to Tevinter?" Zanrye asked. "I assumed it would be."

"Oh yes." Dorian said. "You could almost mistake this for a soiree in the imperium." He shook his head. "Same double-dealing, elegant poison, elegant canapes…. The only thing it's missing is a few sacrificial slaves and some blood magic." He snorted. "But the night is still young." The remark was lighthearted but there. That was the way things were quickly turning between the two of them: forward, apparent, and not withholding simply for the sake of not hurting the other's feelings.

"Have you seen anything—other than more of your mother's act-alikes?" He asked him.

"Not a thing. But all in due time." Dorian said when Zanrye noticed two men skulking about, heads near each other as they whispered. He was noticing that a lot more as the night went on. Whispers were his friends. This must be how Leliana lived.

He excused himself from his friend and walked beneath the coverings in the open walkway, facing the sky but slowly edging back to hear the two men, their conversation becoming clearer as he did so.

"…it was blood on the tiles." The tall man said furiously. The other snorted.

"If they're playing the game, they're not doing it very well." He said. "You don't leave evidence if you're playing to win."

"With Gaspard and that elf woman here, the only one playing to win is Celene." The angry man said, huffing. Zanrye felt his heart skip. There she was mentioned again. The elven woman was here? And what blood on what tiles? What was going on while negotiations were starting?

He cleared his throat and stepped out, determined. They couldn't be talking about someplace too far. He scanned the area around the men and then to the fountain. He looked at his reflection in the rippling water and saw his pained expression. He did his best to wipe his face clean of that when he finally spotted something unusual. The vines lining the wall were…mottled. He stepped closer, pretending to be admiring it, and then he saw that they indeed had been stained. But by what? It came off on his gloves. Dark red.

Looking around twitchy-like, Zanrye tried to calm himself at the prospect of fighting already happening and he walked over to Dorian mingling with one daring man who did not mind to be seen with the magister's spawn.

"If I could borrow him." Zanrye said, pulling him to the side before he began. "I think…there's something on the landing above this. I need to climb up the vines. Can you distract the few people here?"

He said all of this very fast and very breathless. Dorian smacked his lips.

"I suppose I can make a fool of myself so that you can continue our plans." The man said lazily. "But I expect ample repayment for such a task."

"Yes, yes." Zanrye said testily, not in the mood for bantering and teasing. He walked over to the side as his friend began to start singing out poetry. Very. Loudly. Zanrye didn't think it sounded half bad as some left and others watched him politely, tapping their hands together in delicate claps. He grabbed hold, making sure the wall was sturdy, and then he climbed. He tried to do so as quick as possible without making noise, hearing the terms "beside you" and "hearts bleeding onto the floor" before he reached the landing above. Once he did, he crouched, waiting.

And in front of him was a blood splatter. His eyes widened and he saw a few others like it leading to an area father from him, near a door. He walked to it slowly, knowing full well he had no weapons. Creeping near the blue, he felt a shield before it block him from the knob and as he did, the halla statue in his pocket trembled. He gasped. By the creators! Solas was right! He held them out and the shield disappeared. He hesitated before willing himself to open the door.

Inside was a mess of bloody bodies and flung papers. Zanrye's eyes widened as he took in the carnage, looking over his shoulder for signs of people coming. There was no one. He crouched and tried to examine the bodies. Some looked like nobles. One was an elf. He saw the elf clutching tight to a document which he pried from its hands delicately as to not bloody himself.

The words were confusing…then shocking. It was to Celene: We can discuss this like adults can't we…weapon at Briala's disposal…could turn the tide of every war. We must control it. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anyone else…Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy…. You know her better than anyone….

It was from Gaspard. And in the middle of a room full of bloodied, murdered nobles and an elf. Had Celene received this? Did they plan to unite against Briala? Was Briala, the advocate for elves, a major player? He cursed under his breath and hovered to the side, closing the door as he backed out and hearing Dorian's singing still. Another door opened for him and he walked into a grand library. Beautiful tile deked the floors and raised vases geometrically framed the middle of the room where the blue carpet sat. He walked in, the shelves of high quality holding countless books. It was more than he could conceive reading in his lifetime.

Zanrye walked forward slowly, trying to see in the dim light that shone with the moon. He rubbed the books, holding out his two halla statues, trying to find another buzz. None came. He swept his hand past one shelf and dropped one book out. He bent down to pick it up, not wanting to leave a trace (as the man said, no evidence must be left) and put it back, taking hold of the one next to it to examine its own title. But when he pulled, instead of coming out, the book bent over and suddenly the parallel bookshelf slid out of place and revealed an office.

 _This day…is full of too many back alleys_ , Zanrye thought as he walked in. The room was lighted with veilfire; he grabbed a peg underneath to light and take with him around the room. A note was on the desk and he picked it up and read it.

Lady M,

I need you at my side tonight. The unpleasantness in the royal wing has convinced me that there is no safety within the palace. I do not expect my cousin to employ magic but I would hardly be surprised if he provoked another infestation; since my court enchanter is not here to assist me, I must rely entirely on you. There is no one else I can trust.

Celene

It was the apostate no doubt. And how convenient that there were no other mages to call upon tonight of all nights. It was not just fishy, it was bad. Leliana would know more about this than he would.

Zanrye walked back out and looked over the edge. Most were speaking to and scrutinizing Dorian. He swung his body over the side and climbed down fast, letting go a bit too early and hurting his foot for a moment. He inhaled and walked back out onto the other side of the garden where Dorian was to silence him. The man saw him coming and smiled.

"Ah Inquisitor!" He said loudly, breaking up the crowd as he walked away from it. He kept an arm around him. "What a glorious night. I think I may be all sung out however."

"That's alright." Zanrye said. "You did good Dorian."

"I think I'll have my music transcribed." The mage said and them jammed something into Zanrye's pocket and hissed in his ear, "like this."

"You may need some practice." Zanrye said evenly, patting his shoulder but giving him a look that said he understood. What had Dorian found. He took out the now-crumpled note and examined it. It was in different handwriting so it was not Celene. It was sloppy, fast scrawl.

A list of names and times and places were jotted down. 'Kitchen staff…Vernon…Sophie a chamber maid….' All of them…'entered the servant's wing'…and didn't come back out. At the bottom, it said: 'Briala, we need immediate support down here. Something's gone wrong.'

Zanrye's heart was now in his ears and he shoved the note back in his pocket. So Briala was here after all…and so was this mage…and elves he assumed were going missing…in the servant's quarters. He inhaled to steady himself, leaning over a balcony. He realized he was tired already from just a few hours of the game. Because the game wasn't a game at all. Things were in motion and he still hadn't seen the woman Briala, still had no knowledge of where the Venatori were, and had yet to see the mage. And he still was unsure if he wanted to side with Celene or Gaspard though Celene was his leaning. But had Celene and Gaspard joined up together? And if so, why was Celene sending down her ladies in waiting to tell him to take care of him? Was it a ruse? Or did the note get rejected—or just never reach? And what in the hell was her relationship with the ambassador!?

He exited and walked out, heading back to the ballroom. He knew he needed to go to the servant's quarters but wouldn't go in without some weapon and Leliana would tell him where to find one. And he could talk to her about the talk of the mage. He could just reach her and then he'd see what was going on in the servant's quarters.

He walked past people as the bells began to toll in the ballroom. Shit, he was late. He walked a bit faster, still trying to collect his thoughts. So much seemed to have happened in the night and yet he had made absolutely no progress at all. None yet…but soon…

The doors were before him as he heard a second bell toll. Blighted palace was too big. Very nice but still too big. It shouldn't take him this long to get from the gardens. He came to the large blue behemoths to lead him back to the festivities when a voice crept out to his ears.

"Well, well. What have we here?" the voice was sultry and wise and female.

Zanrye slowly turned around and knew at first glance that he had just met another one of the major players in tonight's game. And seeing as it wasn't an elf or a man, he knew it could only be Celene's apostate:

Lady M herself.

* * *

 **PART ONE/THREE of Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts**


	13. Halamshiral (Peace Talks Pt2)

OUTSIDE THE BALLROOM

"What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial court, I wonder? Do even you know yourself?" The mage asked him. He took his hand off the door and faced the woman. She was a shem with hair darker than even Josephine's and skin paler than Solas'. Her eyes were a strange yellow—looking a bit…chasind—and her dress was a wide purple gown with the right touches of silver on the neck and ruffles on the cuffs. She walked and talked as a woman who was used to getting her way, and who knew her way as well. Her somewhat taunting drawl made Zanrye inquisitive rather than defensive. But he still was going to be on guard.

"I guess we may never know." Zanrye said, eyes narrow. "Courtly intrigues and all that." The woman seemed to like the game.

"Such intrigues obscure much…but not all." The woman said. "I am Morrigan, called advisor to Empress Celene by some—on matters of the arcane." She walked back the way they came. Zanrye debated and then followed her slowly. "You have been very busy this night—hunting every dark corner, uncovering. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey."

"I don't know." Zanrye said. "Do we?" The giggle from the woman was sultry and mystical.

"You are being coy." She said lovingly.

"Careful." Zanrye corrected.

"Not unwise, here of all places." Morrigan told him. "I will speak first: I recently found and killed an unwelcome guest in these halls—an agent of tevinter. And so, in good faith, I offer you this." She held it out to him. "A key that I found on the tevinter's body. Where it leads, I do not know yet I cannot leave Celene's side long enough to search where you…can." Zanrye eyed her for no less than five seconds and then took the key, examining it before her.

"Why did you kill the agent?" Zanrye said, voice accusing. "He no doubt had information…."

"He attacked me on sight." She said. "Undoubtedly I caught him in an elicit act. I do not know from whence he came until after the battle. What intentions the imperium has here, I suspect you know far better than I."

"There are whispers about disappearances in the servant's quarters." Zanrye said slowly. "That's where this key leads isn't it?"

"It may." Morrigan said. "You must be careful, Inquisitor. Enemies are all around us, not all from tevinter." She stopped and eyed him. "What comes next will be most exciting." She gave him a slight smile and left him there, entering the ballroom. Zanrye stopped there, knowing that now was his time.

He slowly followed her in and walked quietly in. He drifted past Leliana, giving her a brief nod and then went straight to Cassandra. He stood behind her.

"We're going to the servant's quarters." He spoke fast and under his breath. "Walk out two minutes after me. Do we have weapons on hand?"

"Yes, Cullen was able to get our agents to smuggle in a few swords and a staff. They are in the hall of heroes magically hidden from sight."

"Good."

He walked past her back in the way he came. Josephine caught his eye and he gave her a serious look, continuing on. She looked away, a somewhat worried expression on her face. He stopped by Dorian.

"Monitor things." He said to him. "I'm taking Vivienne and you, Josephine, and Leliana need to keep playing the game and explaining away my absence. If I need another distraction, I know you can do it for me."

"Your personal jester is here." He said drily. "And where are you journeying?"

"To the servant's quarters." He said. "And keep your eyes on Florianne while you can. Keep her here. I know the same can't be said for Celene quite yet. And I know Cullen's on Gaspard."

"That only leave two more players." Dorian commented.

"I've seen the mage." He said. "I have her already. She'll be with Celene when you see her. As far as Briala goes…who knows."

But he did know. With how many letters asking for her help, he suspected that he'd see her before long, maybe even where he was going.

He made his way to Vivienne, bowed to her, grabbing her hand, and jerked his head for the woman to follow him. Vivienne and him began to walk out together, with her chatting him up to not cause suspicion. He saw Solas from afar and gave him a look that the man seemed to understand. He subtly raised his hands to hold up three fingers. Solas nodded.

Once out, Vivienne began to ask him questions and Zanrye filled her in. He knew he would need backup down here. And while he felt he only needed Cassandra and Solas, Vivienne was too viable as someone who could make up for where Solas lacked: Solas spawned shields and ice blasts. Vivienne was a master of calculated stuns and disabling attacks on their enemies. Plus, she was able to also do a bit of other elemental damage like fire and even corrupting foundations.

"Here. Do as I say and we'll try to avoid combat if there is any but that may not be able to happen." Zanrye told them, picking up the staff and swords. There were just enough weapons with an extra dagger. He had Solas reconjure the spell. Zanrye looked to him.

"For fucks sake Solas, will you take off that damned hat!" He blew up. Solas smirked at him.

"How can I when it pleases you so much?" He asked, securing it more. Cassandra rolled her eyes and Vivienne gave the slightest chuckle. Zanrye sighed and then used the key in the door to the previously locked servant's quarters. The door came open. They stepped in.

And as soon as they did, they were greeted by dead elves. Everywhere.

Zanrye felt himself inhale sharply, tendons straining as he surveyed the mess. He exhaled and blinked, trying to compose. He hadn't been prepared to see this….

"What fucking asshole stops to kill the cook?" He growls. His anger was palpable. This was injustice to him on so many levels.

"They always stop to kill the servants first, my dear." Vivienne said factually but a tad empathetically. "Otherwise they could run and warn someone."

It made sense. But the logistics behind the heinous act did not negate Zanrye's anger. The mangled bodies…they resembled the ones in the room above the previous courtyard he'd been on but…worse. They were left there, strewn about without a care, not carefully placed and hidden like the others. But then, what were the lives of elves to these people?

He sighed and they continued forward, into the gardens on the left. He held the sword in his hands, moving slow, dropping from the first landing onto the soft ground of the second, hearing his team behind him. The winged golden lions surrounded the grand fountain that had female spirits guiding the water through. A dead body was laid in front of it.

"That was no servant." Vivienne said. "He was a council of herald's emissary. Very curious to find him here…." She looks and Zanrye can see the sickened smile on her face. "And there is Gaspard's family crest on the hilt of the dagger…oh quite a murder scene."

As she talked, they heard screams from the left and Zanrye raised his sword, slowly creeping that way. The sight he took in was horrific. The assassins—masked and made up—chased the elven servant woman as she screamed for help and mercy. The dagger sliced through her back and neck before she could make it far enough and she fell to her death before them, eyes wide and staring, blood everywhere. Zanrye's grip tightened and he cursed.

"Be ready." He said and then he was in motion, heading for the venatori agents that remained as the first disappeared. He realized they had no armor and sighed, praying to Creators that they would make it out of this. He blocked the first few blows, the protective shield around him. He thrust forward, Cassandra's shield to his left knocking their foes out of the way and defending against their fine instruments. Zanrye thrust through one finally at the cost of his flank and felt the sword that would have been in his spine deflected by the shield that was around him. It flickered, weakening. He saw the fire and ice flow past him and the cage surround one agent. He slit the man's chest open and jumped to another, smashing his sword through that one was well.

The leader, realizing his people were overwhelmed, made the mistake of coming back. Vivienne's blast of raw energy knocked him off of his course and he fell onto Cassandra's awaiting shield which she used to throw him onto his back. The man was able to roll out of reach but just barely before Zanrye came at him and managed a cut on his arm. The man was fast and twirly. Creators, Zanrye wished he had a greatsword. He thrust again and took a kick to the side as the man dodged, doing acrobatics to avoid getting hit the spells from Vivienne. Solas was focusing all his energy on shielding his two unarmored teammates.

Zanrye's anger took hold of him. He just wanted to land another blow, in the same fashion this venatori had used when he killed the elven woman. Zanrye's sword came up and swung out, as he held it with both hands, deftly blocking the man—but the weapon still too light in his hands.

Finally, a jarring spell from Vivienne connected and Zanrye was able to get the man in the side and he faltered enough for Cassandra's chord to hit and lock him in place, pulling him to. He jerked from the recoil and Zanrye's blade finally found it's way into the back of his neck. The man fell to his knees only for Zanrye to hack into his neck another four times before kicking him onto his face and plunging the sword into his back for good measure.

The display brought silence upon his team but he did not acknowledge it, just wiped the sword off and began towards the building where the agents and woman had run from. It was a grand building—living quarters.

"Where are we?" He asked bluntly—to anyone who'd answer.

"Living apartments." Vivienne answered, her voice not at all shaky or phased. She was good at the court, he had to give her that. Her poker face put all to shame.

He walked into the first opening, greeted by toppled busts, ripped furniture, and more dead elves. Zanrye had the feeling they'd see a lot more of that before the night was over. He could feel the apprehension of his team and in truth, the carnage was beginning to get to him. The game was beginning to get to him. The suspense with the elves, the uncertainty about who to support, and the new characters being introduced were…beginning to set his nerves on edge.

He saw another halla statue as soon as he entered. He walked over to it and picked it up. It seemed the only nicely carved thing to have survived the battle that swept through this room. And it would be the only thing that survived the next.

"I also located another." Solas said to him softly. Zanrye turned to him and held out his hand. Solas gave him another, adding to the ever-growing collection. He had only encountered a door. Where was there another?

He got his answer after the main hall. The agents of the Venatori were everywhere—absolutely everywhere. He was shocked and ran in in order to have the first move against the multitude of opponents. It was the only way to gain an advantage.

They battled with a dozen, no two dozen agents throughout the area, each seeming deadlier than the last. A mage was even encountered—one wielding blood magic and rose fallen opponents from the floor to hurl their zombified bodies at Zanrye and his team.

He dodged, jumped, rolled and sidestepped as many as he could. Somewhere, somehow, his thigh had been cut. As had his shoulder and lower back. He had a bruise on his cheek from being clubbed by a struggling Venatori who struggled as Zanrye forced his blade lower and lower into the man's neck over whom he had triumphed.

But by the end they prevailed over all, painting the tables and furniture red and breaking nearly everything they encountered. Zanrye knew they did not have a moment to stop or compose, however. He always moved, checking every room for more information, survivors, or agents. In truth…he mostly did it for survivors. And with the hopes that maybe he would be able to catch the culprit—the leader—fleeing.

They even caught the harlequin but he was yet another pawn. One of the players—one of them—was responsible for this.

The blade that went into the runner's head jarred them out of the flurry and there was a moment of silence. Zanrye readied his weapon and felt the shield of Solas or Vivienne come to life around him. But no attacks came. Instead, out of the shadows, came a figure, walking towards them in white boots and a green dress, mask obscuring most of her eyes and hat (actually fashionable) around her hair.

Zanrye eyed the elven woman with suspicion and tried to remain on guard but her loose posture overtook him and he relaxed and stood straight to greet the Ambassador.

* * *

PRESENT

SERVANT'S QUARTERS

"Fancy meeting you here." She said, her wonky, Free-Marches/off-Orlesian accent thick. She walked over the dead bodies, her eyes never leaving Zanrye's face and his burning desires to know who and what she was finally were satisfied as she came before him. She stood before the stairway onto a balcony where Zanrye stood with his clothes, once so dignified and high fashion, now speckled with bloodstains and riddled with holes here and there. She continued after she stopped, eyes not on him. "Inquisitor Lavellan…slumming in the servant's quarters with your people for once." She turned to face him now and he took her in. Angular face, large pointy ears, and eyes that had a grey like his but leaned towards a blueish color. He still said nothing as he tried to make sense of her and what he should do now that he had her in his sights.

She was not waiting for him. She continued to speak.

"We haven't been properly introduced, huh?" She said. "I'm Ambassador Briala." Zanrye soon found his tongue, his voice coming out easily and calmly.

"That was an impressive shot," he commended her, "Ambassador."

"Welcome to the imperial court, friend." She shrugged at the suggestion. "This is our diplomacy at work." She began her ascend onto the balcony and Zanrye's legs carried him after her. As Solas made a move, he stopped him and waved out his arm, signaling his group to go and fan out, keep watch. He wanted to be with her—alone. She looked like a rebellion leader, no she felt like one. He could already tell. She carried herself with a mix of Gaspard's blunt brutality and Celene's cunning, seemingly diplomatic mannerisms. Add a splash of Leliana's all-knowing voice and Vivienne's air of being constantly on top and you had Briala. He didn't blink.

"I came down to save or avenge my people, Inquisitor. But you beat me to it." She said, looking over the balcony and turning back. "And I take it the council emissary was not your doing?"

"He was dead when we arrived." Zanrye told her. She nodded.

"I saw you arrive with Gaspard…but I don't think you're doing his dirty work…. I think…that you seem to have your own plans." She thought. "I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers. But doing this…bringing in Tevinter assassins?" She sighed. "He's planning to strike tonight."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Zanrye said lightly. "But he seemed pretty easygoing when I spoke to him. I have no doubt he's plotting—but something this big? This desperate?"

"He's Orlesian. Don't let his charm fool you." Briala warned.

"And don't put all eggs in one basket—or all your assumptions." Zanrye replied. This made her smile at him.

"You are Dalish." She said to him softly. "I'm not. But I remember when I met Dalish, lived around them." She smiled almost bitterly. "They were not the most welcoming bunch."

"Neither are city elves, from my experience." Zanrye replied. "Certainly not ones who find life in an alienage…or as a servant…preferable to the lifestyles of the Dalish." Briala didn't flinch.

"You mean the life of the wanderer?" She asked.

"Not all Dalish are nomadic." He countered instantly. "And even those who are settle for long periods of time." He said simply, trying to hedge around her. "We have our own "palaces.""

"I'm sure you do." She said, smiling. She was charming. Zanrye smiled back. She eyed him. "I think I misjudged you, Inquisitor…" She looked at him.

"Lavellan." He said.

"Lavellan. She repeated. "You might just be the kind of ally I need. What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it."

"I have." Zanrye said bluntly. "Many times…most of the candidates being Dalish." He took a few steps towards her, looking down. "Being elves that I can trust…with motives I can trust."

"There is that Dalish hospitality." Briala gave him a smirk which Zanrye forced himself not to return to her. _She's good alright_ he thought _a lot of charisma in her_.

"You call yourself an elven Ambassador." Zanrye said reasonably. "But I don't know when you became that—or why. You were a servant to the Empress. And even though it seems you may have cause to support elves, most elves coming from that type of environment typically don't drop all ties with the shem world in the way they should."

"You doubt my honor and representation of my people?" Briala asked him simply.

"I want to choose the best choice for the Inquisition," Zanrye said and stepped ever closer so he was right in her face. "my Inquisition…which cares about my people—our people. So if the elf isn't the right choice…."

"I hear what you're saying." Briala said. "And it's very proud of you." She hesitated. "Whatever you may know, or think you know about my past, Lavellan, I'm an Ambassador now—who has lived in the palace, an alienage, and around the Dalish. I'm someone who knows of elven secrets and how to speak a little elven myself, something I wasn't brought up to know." She held his stare. "And I will give you…all the elven spies you can want…and trust."

"You know how to make a sales pitch," Zanrye said, eyes fixed on hers.

"I do, don't I?" She answered, her tone back. "I know which way the wind is blowing. And I'd bet coin that you'll be a part of the peace talks before the night is over." She swayed her arms as she spoke. "And if you happen to lean a little bit our way…willing to give my elves a chance… it could prove advantageous for us both." She walked away from him, to the edge of the balcony and looked back. "Just a thought, Inquisitor."

And with that she jumped off and was gone. All the questions and conversations Zanrye wanted to have were suddenly gone. He sighed and looked back. His team had indeed dispersed and he gazed out as he tried to take at least a few moments to recollect. The players had all come out now. And out of them all, it was Briala who enticed him. Of course she would. How could she not? She was elven and was advocating for elven equality. But she would never be ruler, so what was the best way to help her position? What was she trying to do? She hadn't even told him. She wasn't winging it so what was it?

He was not able to tarry long before Cassandra gave him a somewhat suspicious look and signaled him. Their trail of bodies filled up all the rooms as they looked through what loots they could, trying to find anything with clues and even finding goodies here and there. In most of the rooms, the team could find nothing but weapons and gold and heirlooms and instructions for mighty weapons that they would give to the blacksmith back at Skyhold.

He came to another door that required the halla statues to open. He did so and found that it was not another bedroom at all but rather a storage area. It looked to be a main storage area. It was shaped similarly to others they encountered but held…different looking chests.

Zanrye did not care to look around but Vivienne insisted that it could not hurt to find more information. She, like the others, still did not know of Zanrye's secret stash of documents about elven servants conspiring by Briala's orders. He had not even yet told Solas. He trusted the man, truly he did, but until he knew what he wanted to do about Briala….

He was engrossed in his thoughts so much that he hadn't realized what it was when the locket came to be in his hands. He'd pulled out from the far back part of a drawer. But once he did pull it out, he instantly saw the elven markings on it. It looked like it was crafted by a Dalish craftsman at that. He couldn't believe it. Why was it…?

"It seems the Empress has a…taste for elven art." Solas said lightly. Zanrye's head spun to the man and his look didn't silence him but made Solas hold the stare.

"My, my…how scandalous." Vivienne said from his side. Zanrye blinked, trying to understand their predicament now. He had just met with the ambassador, slaughtered a dozen venatori agents, and had to find out who he should support for the throne.

And now…there was this.

And suddenly, Zanrye felt very sick. The locket…was with empress Celene…from no-doubt Briala. And that meant…. Well, it could mean many things. Celene could have stolen it. Celene could have gotten it from the Ambassador when they were yet friends.

 _Friends_. That wasn't what Vivienne was implying. Nor even Solas. Zanrye left the room, his group in tow. It did indeed look like a…tender gift. He couldn't swallow for a second. He had been captivated just a moment ago, thinking the Ambassador the saving grace for the elves in Orlais. Zanrye realized he was putting his own foolish dreams for the inquisition into the predicament again. Him and his network of elven spies, interwoven in Orlais. The Inquisition already controlled the area to the left of the mountains by Ferelden. With the Briala he had imagined and encountered, that they could slowly build up power….

But now…it wasn't uncommon for an elf, especially the women, to be taken by the shems. And his vision was compromised. He couldn't jump to conclusions—they could have just been friends. But those letters: _'You know her better than anyone…'_ Gaspard's warning: ' _She has reasons…_ ' What if it wasn't just political but also passionate? She was getting back at the shem woman she'd fallen for.

Zanrye couldn't risk it, he knew. And he didn't like it. Sorrowful, he sighed. Fucking city elves! He couldn't stop the thought before it came into his mind. Was trying to vie for Briala actually just putting an entire squadron, community, population of elven spies in the hands of Celene?

"Where to, Inquisitor?" Vivienne asked him lightly.

"I need to talk to Celene." He said hardly. "And then Gaspard."

"I pray we are not going to reveal too much to our potential allies and foes." She said.

"That's why you're going with me." Zanrye said simply. They made it out the way they came, weaving through the blood-soaked rooms, once so nice and embellished with foreign and classical pieces of furniture and decoration.

He slipped out quietly and turned to them, suddenly realizing.

"Vivienne, do we…" He asked slowly.

"I'll have them brought into the restroom immediately." Vivienne said. "We always have backup Inquisitor. Two backups at that. I'm perfectly unharmed. So is Solas—mostly. But you and Cassandra wait here."

As she left them, Cassandra, who had been oddly quiet, piped up finally.

"You are troubled." She said bluntly. "I want to know what's on your mind. Back there…."

"It's just a lot of thinking to do." Zanrye said numbly, a wave of remorse and disgust overtaking him, his mind ever racing.

"It is a burden." She said, voice understanding. "And I have no doubt you'll make the right choices. Don't let yourself be bogged down. Just remember: Celene or Gaspard. And finding out who is responsible for the Venatori. Those are our main priorities."

Zanrye nodded but he knew it wasn't his. He had a chance he knew. This shift, this chaos that everyone was trying to take advantage of, could be used to his own advantage. But he had never been good at the deceitful approach. He desperately wished that Po was here to just kill them all, that Nishia was here to bring them all to heel…. He walked a ways away from Cassandra, his friend and confidant and Second; his right hand…but still a shem. Still only thinking of the Inquisition (The shem Inquisition's) problems. He wished his friends were here. But even more so, he wished he had someone he could completely trust and confide in here.

All of these people…could never be that. Half were shems who would never be on board with any of his schemes that would elevate elves in such a way that would either depower shems or even go behind their backs. It was not in their best interest. And Sera was a horrific, poor excuse for an elf—the embodiment of what Dalish feared about city elves' mentality. And then there was Solas, who had become so close to him in such a short time, but who was still for the preservation of the world and someone who still did not view elves as his first people—except in undeniable circumstances. Zanrye could appreciate that but that's not what he needed. He needed someone to think like him, care about what he did—someone who could be unapologetically elven. And the fact that he could not find that someone here made him sad and livid.

Their clothes came in time for Vivienne to see the grimace on Zanrye's face. He took the new adornments. Being clean made him feel the slightest bit better. He pissed in the metal bowl, which had a shute, pipe in the back that took the waste out to some cesspool that would be magically disposed of.

He left the restroom slowly, with voices-soft ones-reaching his ears. He paused as the words hit him in his current state.

"…knife-eared servant girl in the kitchen, the ginger." One man's voice drawled.

"Keep talking. I'm starting to believe I was there." The other's voice was heavy with lust.

"I need to get one of those." A third voice said factually.

"Don't we all?" The first man's drawl came back.

Zanrye's face was deadpan as he stepped out. The cluster of men hushed their voices further. Zanrye walked past them and gave them the deadliest of glares that he could, frightening the third who merely stared at him. He was just about done with these fucking shems. All of them.

* * *

PRESENT

BALLROOM

He stormed into the ballroom, tired of everything and ready to shove his fist into the first shem who had something to say's face when Florianne filled his sights. She wore a cream gown and dark corset, her blonde hair cut much like his but straighter and longer. He was pulled out of his angry storm by her appearance, now on guard. He bowed.

"Inquisitor." She said nicely. "I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome."

"Why…am I not surprised to see you now—that you want to talk to me now?" Zanrye said.

"Nothing happens by accident in Orlais, Inquisitor." Florianne said. She walked to the banister. "I believe we may both be concerned about the actions of a certain person, Inquisitor." She continued to the stares, leading him. "Dance with me…the spies will not hear us on the floors."

As Zanrye walked with her and she held out a dainty hand, with long fingers, a thought suddenly took Zanrye. Nothing was done by accident. He hesitated, looking around and not seeing the face he thought to see in his quick scan. 'Nothing ever happens by accident,' the Duchess had said. And everything would mean something. Zanrye shuffled his feet and then looked her in the face.

"I…would be happy to, your Grace." Zanrye told her, taking her hand slowly. "But just know that I am…currently…a bit spoken for."

The words made his ears turn red. Was he spoken for? He scanned once more—and again did not see Josephine. Her sister's words earlier…and all that had happened up until now…he didn't know what to make of it. In Dalish culture, they would have made declarations as soon as they'd gone on the horse ride. There was less of this "building up erotic tension." It was not necessarily a game in the way that it felt between him and Josephine.

But even thinking about Josephine and himself…tonight of all nights…juxtaposed to the information about Briala…. He sighed but before he could dwell, Florianne spoke.

"Your lover has nothing to fear, Inquisitor." She said smoothly. "This is business, not pleasure." He followed her onto the floor, aware of the eyes starting to go to them. He grabbed her hand as she grabbed his and they raised them up, readying themselves. Zanrye knew some of the steps here—had learned from Vivienne and Josephine prior to coming here. In truth, the articulation of steps was similar to that of a Dalish spiritual dance. But he would never admit that.

"What do you know of our civil war?" She asked him.

"I know that Orlais's war is Thedas' war." He said knowingly. "The effects of this war reach far beyond the borders of the Orlesian Empire."

"Perhaps it does." Florianne said, them beginning the step, pushing forward. "I would not be surprised to find that, as of now, the empire is the center of many's worlds." She held her head high and graceful. "It took much to arrange these negotiations but…I fear…one party could use this occasion for…blackest treason."

The two of them faced each other, hands gliding before they both dipped before one another as she spoke, "The security of the empire is at stake and neither of us would like to see it fall." Zanrye rose and they linked hands, easing in a circle with just one of their hands keeping them centered to each other.

"Is that indeed what we both want, Lady Florianne?" Zanrye asked. As they switched hands, the lady replied just as smoothly as he had.

"I hope we are of one mind in this." She said. Zanrye eyed her and soon spun her so that his arms glided to stretch out her own, body behind hers. It was a dance of death—but a nice one at least.

"In these times, it's hard to tell friends from foe, isn't it?" He said. "Your Grace." The Duchess turned and placed a hand on his shoulder, holding his other. And they began to waltz. Zanrye led them but knew she was leading the conversation.

"I know you arrived with my brother Gaspard." Florianne said. "And I know you have gone many places within this palace." She was taller than him but followed his lead. "You are matter of…both curiosity and concern."

"And where do I stand with you, Your Grace?" He asked her, eyes piercing. "Curiosity or concern?"

"A little of both, actually." The woman replied. "This evening is of great importance. I only wonder what your position in it will be." He spun her again and she came back, their dance continuing and her words following, "Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Do you know who in the court can be trusted?" He kept their jig but paused.

"If I've learned anything your Grace, it's to put your trust in no one." Zanrye said seriously. Florianne did not respond for a time, letting the dance continue. Her face was completely unreadable. And then her voice as soft.

"In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone." She said. "Though I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in…dangerous machinations tonight." They were the only ones on the floor still, Zanrye realized. He kept up with her.

"I thought dangerous machinations were the national sport of Orlais." He said, half joking. He turned to dip her and her voice came urgently.

"You have little time." She said. As they rose and made their way to the stairs, she kept up, "The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes." She looks at him. "In the Royal Wing gardens, you will find the captain of my brother's mercenaries." She bowed to him and he to her. "I'm sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming." As he rose, he left her.

"We'll see what the night has in store won't we?" He said, leaving her. He rose the stairs to the claps of the masked empire and was confronted immediately by the face he had been looking for. As he looked at Josephine, his face became tight. She smiled at him, commending his dancing.

"As long as it's not with Corypheus." He said lightly and her laugh perforated throughout his senses and he had to smile back at her. _Oh Josephine…_.

"Were you dancing with Duchess Florianne?" Leliana asked, materializing.

"More importantly, what happened in the servant's quarters." Cullen interjected. "I heard that there was fighting."

"I hope you bring good news." Josephine said. "The peace talks are deteriorating."

"I found Morrigan, the mage. She helped me into the servant's quarters. I found Gaspard's knife and Venatori agents."

"That man will do anything to be emperor." Leliana's eyes narrowed.

"The attack will happen tonight," Cullen looked distressed.

"And it's too late to warn Celene." Josephine said. "She needs success and won't flee. Fleeing would show her defeat."

"We could let her die." Leliana said. Zanrye was shocked.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Corypheus wants chaos but that may happen with Celene in power anyway." She said simply. "To foil this, the empire must remain strong. So someone has to succeed—fully." Josephine's voice was nearly shrill.

"Do you realize what you're suggesting!?" She accused her friend.

"Sometimes, the best path is not the easiest." Leliana said simply.

"And your best path is what?" Zanrye challenged her, eyes narrow.

"Celene is the rightful ruler." Josephine said. "Why not her?"

"Gaspard is my choice." Cullen said flatly. "Granted that he's not on the wrong side."

"Briala could actually bring peace to Orlais and the elves." Leliana said instantly and Zanrye felt like he could be knocked over with a feather.

"Briala couldn't have the throne. Orlais wouldn't accept that." Zanrye said.

"It's not always about sitting on the throne, Inquisitor." Leliana said cryptically. But she had still said it anyway. She supported Briala?

"Florianne said something about the royal quarters." He said slowly. "Could be a trap, could be a lead. I need access to it—someone get me in. And Cullen, just get your soldiers ready." As they started to talk, he stopped them. "I need more information before I make a decision. But I will. Just…give me some time."

* * *

PRESENT

GUEST WING

He left his small council even more tired than before. The night was wearing on but he was not done yet—not even close. He walked to the gardens and saw the three masked ladies once more. He came up to them, a look of no-nonsense on his face.

"Inquisitor." They greeted him kindly.

"Evening." He said shortly. "Can you relay to Celene that I found an elven locket in her vault?" The look on the women's covered faces was clear shock, even through the masks.

"We will get her right away." The leader said and the three scurried off. Zanrye glared, waiting for them to come. He had forgotten to take his party but was sure he'd need them. But he really needed Dorian this time—Vivienne needed to watch Florianne. He didn't buy her story about Gaspard, though everyone seemed to think him the villain. Florianne was too shrouded in mystery, just like Vivienne said. She had something to gain, and keeping Celene happily on the throne was probably not it.

Celene herself appeared in seconds, her rich blue gown trailing behind her. Her stern face revealed nothing as she came up to him. She was taller than he was as well.

"I regret we did not have time to speak earlier." She said to him softly. "I know you no-doubt have many questions." Her chemise's golden swirls were barely seen, her collarbones pronounced underneath her short necklace.

"The locket I found was from Briala." He said bluntly, eyes never changing. "Wasn't it?" The Empress did not hesitate but her eyes narrowed inside the mask.

"She did give it to me for my coronation." The woman admitted. "I don't know why I kept it. It was a foolish thing to do apparently."

"And why did you two part ways?" Zanrye asked. He knew he sounded like he was interrogating her but he needed answers, in a timely fashion.

"She wanted change. And she thought I should deliver it." Celene said slowly. "My word is law, Inquisitor, but laws don't command people's hearts. Culture does not change overnight." She inhaled, seeing his elven eyes not soften the slightest bit. "I did fail her, Inquisitor. I should have dared more. But," her own eyes were hard, "the past, like many things, is beyond my command."

She looked down at him and Zanrye knew in an instant what the woman felt and what had happened and suddenly all of his fears were confirmed. He thought of Josephine again….

"You kept it because you still have feelings for your lover, right?" He asked bluntly. The Empress did not flinch.

"Perhaps I do." She said. "But I cannot put her above the people of my empire, Inquisitor." She stepped back. "You may dispose of the locket however you like. It means nothing to me."

She left him there, with Zanrye gazing after her. He sat down on a nearby settee to think. Things were coming to fruition now. Gaspard wanted change and would do anything to get it. But he was not the only villain here. Celene did not seem worried, seeing as her life was in danger. And she had been fucking the ambassador and (if Gaspard was telling the truth) betrayed her in some way, used her as the scapegoat for something and the two had their love tarnished. Briala wanted change, Celene had said…. But Celene had not given it to her. And now Briala was an Ambassador to the elves…but before that…she was a spurned lover.

Elves mixing with shems. Again. Zanrye judged her—judged her hard. But he knew he shouldn't, that he truthfully couldn't. He was doing the same with Josephine—had even claimed her to Florianne, even if it wasn't by name. He felt proud, and shy at her telling her sister things that made the girl think they would be a couple. He was no better than Briala, bed-wenching himself to the shems. The locket even felt like the musical instrument he had given to Josephine. Something that felt good and right at the time…but was it just another exotic, cultural thing to bestow onto his shem lover? And what if Briala had felt for Celene as he knew he was feeling for Josephine? What separated him from Briala? What made him any different, so much that he did not feel pity or understanding for the woman but contempt, exhaustion, and hope (still).

The answer came to Zanrye after he had been sitting for nearly a half hour, contemplating and battling the idea, trying to find out why their union, so similar to his and Josephine's made his skin crawl instead of make him feel truly ashamed?

It was because she was Celene's servant. That was the one difference. She was the rabbit of Celene, the servant girl who thought her master and lover would give her what she wanted. Here…he was the Inquisitor. He was the leader of the Inquisition and he was on equal footing with Josephine—perhaps higher in some regards. He was not bound by her will via servitude. The Inquisition shems had honestly been stupid, giving him nearly all the power: the final say, the ability to conscript and kill, and now the ability to decide Orlais' fate. He respected their trust and shook his head at it. He would never do the same for them he knew. But that was just it—he wouldn't because he could not afford to. They were shems, he was an elf. He couldn't have that luxury. And neither could Briala, though she tried. And she had paid for trying to do so.

Zanrye sat there, these thoughts in his head, and he was suddenly filled with some form of energy that made him get to his feet and head out to the upper gardens where he knew Briala would be. He walked out to her and she smiled as she saw him. He did not smile back, mind working a thousand miles a minute. He stepped up to her.

"Come with me." He said bluntly and did not wait, beginning to walk. She followed him and he led her to the Hall of Heroes once more, putting them in a secluded corner. She seemed the slightest bit wary before he locked their eyes.

"Tell me about what happened to you Briala." He said harshly, crossing his arms.

"More Dalish greetings." She said. When he didn't laugh, she continued, "I'm an elf. You're an elf. What is there to say? I do my job and I'm good at it—"

"You know that isn't what I meant." Zanrye said simply. "Tell me…about what happened between you and Celene." Briala stared for a time then her voice became hard.

"Never took you for a gossip-monger." She shot at him. He didn't flinch. "Your spies no doubt briefed you already. So yes: Celene and I were lovers once but we've gone our separate ways."

"Why?" Zanrye pressed.

"That's in the past and has nothing to do with now." Briala said hardly.

"Oh doesn't it?" He asked. He drew the locket from his pocket and dangled it. "This was hidden amongst Celene's things. This is yours, right…Ambassador?" The way she grabbed for it with wide eyes confirmed everything Zanrye needed to know.

"Let me it!" She took it and cradled it in her hands, astonishment on her face. "She…kept this." She cursed. "What was she thinking? If Gaspard had found this, it would have ruined her."

"It obviously means something to her." Zanrye said bluntly. Briala's eyes were on the locket.

"Maybe it did…she held onto it." She said softly. The moment she spoke those words, Zanrye's hand reached out and snatched the locket from her grip. Briala's eyes were wide in shock as Zanrye threw it on the ground and stomped on it—hard. He kicked it to the side and then stood before Briala, face plain.

"You were used, Briala." He said plainly. "You were a secret lover to Celene—and she burned you." He took a step toward her, face hard and eyes narrow. "And you need to let that shit go."

"I have not spoken to her since—"

"Culture…doesn't change overnight." He quoted Celene, over-talking her. "Hearts don't change as easily as bodies do. You're still in love with her—the shem woman who used you as a scapegoat in some political affair. The one who led you to believe she would help your people when she would never do that—not unless it's beneficial to her." He scoffed. "Even now, you're worried about her being ruined."

"You do not know her!" Briala hissed. "It was not as you say. She is not the best person nor leader but she is not as you make her out. Yes, she may have done—"

"Shut up." Zanrye said and Briala seemed ready to throw a dagger into his head. He eyed her and sighed heavily. "Do you know why Dalish are wary of city elves? It's for situations like this."

"Oh the Dalish—never ones to bed those awful shems." Briala interjected. "Oh, you all are so quick to spit on city elves for love—"

"The love isn't the problem here Briala." He cut her off. He sighs and crossed his arms.

"Your words are hollow, Inquisitor." She said, glaring. "I know how you all think, what you think of me just because Celene is a human—"

"It isn't even about that." Zanrye cut her off. "It's a situation where you're the elven ambassador but still aren't putting elves first."

"You don't know what I have done for my people," She said, eyes as slits.

"No." He agreed. "But I know what you have done, or been made to do, for shems. And from your reaction, I know what you are willing to do for a shem who let you in her bed. And that… that is the problem Briala." He stepped forward more. "It isn't that you have sex with shems, or that you even love a shem. It's the fact that I can't be sure that you're willing to do anything for your people…that your love for this shem comes first."

"What are you trying to say?" She asks.

"That I like you Briala." He said simply. "And I really, really want to trust you, and I want to support you and aid you with your work. But I'm trying to help elves here. From this huge shift, this turn, I want elves to get something out of it. And I think you're a good leader, from what little I can see, but you are willing to put her, Celene, above…or on par…with your cause for elves." He lowered his voice. "And she would not do the same for you." Before Briala can speak, he added, "she told me she wouldn't. I asked her about the locket earlier. She is not interested in entertaining the notion of elven rights without something to gain from it—whether that's Inquisition support, sex from her servant, or an army. She specifically said her own people, especially those in Orlais, would come before you…and your desires."

Briala's eyes were surprised at that and Zanrye did not budge, did not change as they stared at each other. He could see the woman's heart being re-broken after a little hope had been ignited there, torn apart by how he'd twisted Celene's words from earlier.

"There is love…and then there is unconditional, pure, equal love." Zanrye said bluntly. "And I do not think the woman who used you, whether on purpose or out of necessity, loves you like the latter. And so…it isn't fair that you love her more than she does you."

"I understand." Her voice was angry. She was breathing heavy, no tears coming but probably pouring inside of her. "No need to embarrass me further…."

"I want us to be allies." He said simply. "I think you're the one I can count on to truly do good for the elves this side of Thedas. But I have to be sure that you are willing to…play the game of love that she played with you…and let your yearning for her go." His voice was soft. "I told you…I like you Briala. But even so…I have to do what's best for elves first…as you should."

"I know." She said, her voice softer now as well as her face showed that she was going through what must be a second awakening.

"And so…I want you to choose." Zanrye said. She eyed him. "Many things can happen tonight …. The Inquisition will do its best to facilitate things and protect the Empress…unless we don't." He gave her a look that left Briala horrified. "I have plans in motion…but as partners…I would want to know how you can best do your job. Be honest with yourself." He uncrossed his arms and picked up the locket, putting it in his pocket. "You fear Gaspard—and rightfully so. But I don't think he's the only one at work here. You may be the culprit for these agents, but I doubt it. And I'll trust you aren't." He locked eyes with her. "Under Celene, change may more easily but more slowly. And I'm sure…you could convince her to start it along." Briala's eyes widened at what he was implying. "And with Gaspard…let's just say that the amount of blackmail evidence we have on him is already enough to keep him in line for years to come. He could help us with the war…and I could have you pull his strings." He looked at her gravely. "You can't take the throne. It would split the country in two. You can only rule through one of them, sadly. Celene is more willing but it would take more effort from you. Gaspard would plot against us if we ordered him how he did not like but the Inquisition could police him for you. But what do you think? Which do you feel…would be the better option for the elves and your plans for our people?"

Briala's eyes were wide as she stared at him. Just as the decision was put in his lap, he was giving Briala her own. And he was judging her every facial expression, every twitch, and ultimately her choice. He crossed his arms as he waited. Briala's face was torn and she processed his words, knowing very well he had her just as he had Gaspard and even Celene's lives and reputations in his hands.

"Will my answer even matter?" She asked him lowly, eyeing him with some newfound respect as she began to consider their alliance.

"Ambassador…" he said softly, "Your answer…will decide everything…."

* * *

 **PART TWO/THREE of Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts**


	14. Lions, Hallas, &Serpents (Peace Talks 3)

[NOTICE] ORIGINAL TITLE FOR THIS EPISODE WAS "The Lions, The Hallas, and The Serpent (Peace Talks Pt3)" but that couldn't all fit on the line. Enjoy :)

* * *

BALLROOM

Zanrye slipped back into the ballroom in a few seconds, greeted by the council of heralds, the dowager he'd assisted sometime earlier, and one of the ladies who was harassing Cullen earlier. Now that the drinks had flown, she was getting jungle fever. He batted her off and made his way over to Josephine and her sister. He said nothing to the younger woman and looked at Josie.

"How is my court approval?" He asked her without any introduction. She was startled.

"I… it's very, very good Inquisitor." She said. "I would say there is no one here who I can claim thinks ill of you. You've been doing quite a bit this evening. And many loved Dorian's song earlier, which also earned you points for proper amusement."

"How big of a scene do you think I can get away with?" He asked her bluntly. Josephine's eyes became worried but she hesitated only a second.

"I…would not recommend it, my lord." She said. "Your…duties here…do not require a scene."

"Just tell me, Josephine, please." Zanrye begged testily. "I'm not going to do anything, I just need to know."

"I would say that…our position is good here." Josephine said and then she pulled Zanrye to the side, much to her sister's huffs and puffs. She lowered her voice. "Even…if you were to… do as…Leliana has suggested…the Inquisition backing such a change…would be welcomed almost unanimously." She said this sadly and did not look at him. Her look of disappointment made Zanrye frown. Gaspard was still to be considered—now more than ever—but he did not want that look to be on her face. He placed a hand on her waist.

"I was not asking quite for that." Zanrye told her softly. She looked to him. "I was more wondering about how long I could disappear."

It was a lie. But she did not need to know that.

"You have already been gone awfully long." Josephine said. "Any longer will do nothing more."

"Good." He released her. "I was just wondering where I stood…how many hearts I captured tonight. We need all the support we can get right?"

"…yes." She started to smile. "You are learning the game, Inquisitor."

"Good teachers." He said to her as he strode away now, back out of the ballroom after his drive-by visit to it after his meeting with Briala.

He walked out and found Dorian pacing in the Hall of Heroes, with Solas leaning on the wall and Cassandra crossing her arms, no doubt from bantering with one of the two men present.

"There you are!" Dorian cried, striding over to him. "Where have you been? You told us all to come and meet you in very few minutes each and then you run off!?"

"It's alright." Zanrye smiled at the man kindly. "I just had to take care of a few things first.

"Oh take care of a few things he says." Dorian rolled his eyes. "As if we weren't sitting here, wondering if something foul had happened to you."

"You were gone awfully long." Cassandra added.

"I know. I was making my decision." Zanrye said. "About who we're supporting."

"And?" She asked, suddenly perking up. Zanrye just shook his head.

"Later. Everything still depends on what we find in the royal wing."

Though Cassandra was a bit pouty, she followed him with the rest into the forbidden area. The guards were all gone. They walked freely. It was most definitely a trap.

Zanrye took lead and they faced a study tucked to the side of a large staircase leading to another landing. Zanrye tightening his grip on his sword—too small for his liking still—and motioned for his team to follow him up the stairs. They were quiet and careful, checking the table and revealing yet more blackmailable information on the various nobles at the party. As Dorian assessed them, they walked onto the landing. They entered upon an array of doors, each of which had a painting next to it. He could see over the banister the floor below as a skylight (or moonlight in this case) rested above their heads, letting the beams light the area.

"Hello?" He heard to his left, through the door. He looked back at Cassandra, face hard who nodded to him. He slowly edged forward as the voice continued, "anyone out there?"

He was about to go for the knob when a blood-curdling scream was let out in another room, just to their right. Zanrye drew his sword and rushed in, busting open the door to try and stop any more violence.

A venatori assassin stood above the elven lady who was trying desperately to back away, scuffling out of the way of the slashing swords. Her eyes came to Zanrye, distress within them, and he charged in, running towards the assassin at full speed. He looked only too late before Zanrye impacted the man (or woman by the feel of her) and pushed her out the window. The victory, saving this woman's life, had him smiling as he turned to the woman on the floor.

"Thank you," the servant said.

"It's alright." He crouched down, voice too kind but so happy at what he'd done, "You're safe now. Won't be bothered with that blighter anymore."

"I suppose I won't." The servant chuckled nervously and stood up, her face distressed. "N-no one was supposed to be here. Briala said…" she sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted her."

"Briala told you to come to this wing of the palace?" Zanrye arched a brow. He was aware now that his team was behind him. He chose his words carefully.

"Not personally." The servant said bitterly. "The ambassador can't be seen talking to servants. We all get coded messages from certain locations but the orders are from her. She's been watching the Grand Duke all night. No wonder she wanted someone to search his sister' room."

"Couldn't anyone else know the code and drop location?" Zanrye asked her evenly.

"I don't know." The servant said. "Any of us could do it but…no one else would send me here."

"And what were you told to find in here?" Zanrye crossed his arms.

"The message didn't say." The servant said. "I should've known it was a setup."

"And you got in here…" he asked her.

"The door was unlocked." She said. "I suspected one of the others handled it."

"So many people taking advantage of the fact that this wing is closed." Zanrye said, thinking, mind racing as he considered the players.

"She probably knew it was dangerous and sent me anyway. So one more secret could be removed." The servant said bitterly and her animosity was palpable. "I knew her, you know. Before. When she was still Celene's pet." Zanrye looked at the woman, eyes revealing nothing. "Now she wants to play revolutionary but I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our alienage!"

"And you'd be willing to testify to that if I asked?" Zanrye asked her evenly. "We can give you our protection." The woman's eyes lit up.

"Yes! Yes, I will tell you all you want to know about the ambassador." She said.

"Then go wait with Cullen in the ballroom," he told her gently. "But do not breathe a word unless it's to me." She nodded and scurried off.

"Then it's confirmed." Dorian said, smirking. "Little elven lovin going on with the Empress.

"No time for that." Zanrye said. "We have to go and see where the yelling was coming from." He walked out of the room and went up more stairs, hearing the voice get louder, profanities and yells of "painted Orlesian arseholes!" echoing through the halls. Soon, they found the culprit. Using the halla statues, he opened a door into what could only be the Empress's quarters, seeing as the furnishings were more lush than any others and the bed rested on a risen platform above the study and play area. He ascended to quite a sight.

The naked man was chained and struggling to the bed, only a helmet on his head and nothing to protect him from the prying eyes of Zanrye and his crew. Not that Zanrye wanted to see. Dorian laughed out loud and Cassandra made a sound of disgust. Solas actually let out a giggle.

"What…happened?" Zanrye asked him.

"It's not what it looks like." The man stuttered. "Though…I would have rathered it was." He sighed, ceasing his struggles. "The Empress led me to believe I'd be rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. Instead, this is what I get."

"I…can imagine he thought his reward would be," Dorian smirked, voice at Zanrye's ear and the Inquisitor had to battle the urge to laugh.

"Please." The man urged. "I beg you. Don't tell Gaspard. The Empress beguiled me into giving her information about troop movements and…and everything. She knows all about Gaspard's surprise attack and it hasn't even begun." The man was ashamed. "It's a trap now. The moment he strikes, she'll execute him for treason."

That showed why she was so calm about the whole thing. She knew it was not Gaspard and yet she pretended to treat him as a threat yet to be handled, lying to the Inquisition. Zanrye thought hard. Gaspard's movements were foiled already. Celene had him pinned and solicited a soldier to do it. He knew about Briala…and that only left one….

"We'll protect you from Gaspard if you aid us with any testimony we may need you to give against Celene and her trap for Gaspard." Zanrye said.

"Anything." The man moaned. "Just don't leave me here."

Zanrye got him out and then turned to the others.

"We have to move—now. Back to the ballroom. She's about to strike." He moved past them, leaving only Dorian to question who the 'she' was that Zanrye was talking about.

* * *

PRESENT

ROYAL WING

The answer to Dorian's question came soon after they stepped out of the royal wing and into the divider between it and the ballroom itself. The fade rift was in the center and a dozen crossbowmen had their arrows cocked and pointed at the Inquisitor. His hand shined and buzzed.

"Inquisitor." Florianne's voice rang out, resting on Cassandra and Dorian's shocked ears and Zanrye's knowing ones. "I wasn't certain you'd attend. You are such a challenge to read…I had no idea if you'd taken my bait or not."

"Well I had to when you made the offer so enticing, though I didn't expect to see you so soon Duchess," Zanrye smirked at her cruelly, hand behind his back. "Thought you'd be in the ballroom still…I'm afraid I'm a bit busy if you're looking for another dance partner."

"Yes I can see that." The woman said lightly. "Such a pity you did not save one final dance for me. You are such an elegant dancer—for an elf. But thank you for walking into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of your meddling." She eyed him. "Corypheus insists Celene die tonight and…I would so hate to disappoint him."

"And Celene has to die, does she?" Zanrye asked her.

"She is a stepping stone of the path to a better world." Florianne shrugged him off. "When Corypheus enters the black city and claims the godhood waiting for him, we will cast down your Maker, and your silly elven pantheon, and be led by an attentive god. And I shall rule all of Thedas in his name."

"You believe that?" Zanrye scoffed. "You can't be that stupid, Florianne. You don't have to do this. You're being played."

"You are so naïve, Inquisitor." Florianne scoffed. "Besides, no one would imagine I would kill Celene myself—as I will do now. All I have to do is keep you away from the ballroom long enough for me to strike." She smirked. "A pity you'll miss it, they'll be talking about it for years to come." She stepped back, ordering her troops. "Kill him. Bring me his marked hand. It will make a good gift for the master."

As she turned, Zanrye spring forward. It was too soon, she had the advantage. Maker, if he had just figured it out sooner! He dodged two arrows and disrupted the rift, pulling out his sword and ending one of the archers before him instantly.

The shields sprang and he and Cassandra burst upon the enemies with such fury, as to eliminate them quickly. The terrors would come soon, the rift was opening once more. Zanrye's head was hit with a bow and he faltered but Cassandra drove the man through with her own longblade, giving Zanrye time to recover. He shook his head clear. There were too many he knew. But they would need to succeed. Everything was counting on it.

He dodged as a wraith came out of the rift and threw a burst of energy towards him.

"Dorian!" He yelled.

"On it! On it!" The man said, fumbling a bit. He threw his weight into magic energy that set one archer on fire before he rooted the wraith in place with a spirit barrier. Zanrye ran to it and hit its body with his own sword, rendering the demon nothing but a formless spirit that was sucked back into the rift from which it came. He felt pain then as an arrow hit him in the shoulder. He didn't have a shield up. He glared behind him and pulled the arrow out—it hadn't gone too deep.

His feet sprang and he whirled, slicing through the man's entire torso as he did so. He fell without a yell—or maybe Zanrye couldn't hear it for the screaming of the despair demon that had just appeared. _Shit_. Despair demons were the worst. He'd almost lost Cassandra to one in the Hinterlands. They were fast and jumped around, with shields. And they aimed their magic straight at the hearts of their foes.

Zanrye yelled for his team to focus all their attention on the despair demon. They did and he quickly drew the attention of the remaining two archers and stuck one in the side before he moved to puncture the thigh of the other one and punch him to the ground. He ran back, cutting through a wraith and dematerializing it as he did. He made it in time to land a few cuts to the despair demon before it too was taken back into the rift.

"Solas needs help." Cassandra called out as she battled with another terror. There were about five. Two to each person. Solas had been scratched in his side by one demon and had barely put up a shield in time to stop its second attack. Zanrye walked toward the scene, hopping every other step before he plunged his blade into the demon's back. It screamed and writhed and clawed back towards him, catching one of his wrists and Zanrye yanked his arm away. He took out his sword and plunged it into the thing's back and then into its face before the demon gave a final wail and was taken by the rift. Zanrye turned to the face the rift, focusing on it, hand outstretched. His arm shook as he felt he power surge through it and connect to the rift, swallowing it and reversing its opening until the rift exploded and was no more.

He turned back to look behind him, seeing Solas getting to his feed unsteadily at first. He helped him stand and examined the slashes. They were not bad but must hurt like hell.

"Are you alright?" He asked the man.

"Perfectly fine apart from the sting." Solas commented, smirking. Zanrye shook his head and cupped the man's neck affectionately, pausing to yank the hat off his head and throw it away, before he turned to where Dorian now stood over a man in Ferelden style dress.

"Untie him." Zanrye said to Dorian as he approached. Dorian did and the man got to his feet.

"Andraste's tits!" he swore. "Were those demons!? There aren't any more comin are there?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a soldier?" Zanrye said, disgust in his voice. "Act like one."

"Pay isn't good enough to keep my calm, friend." The man grumbled. "I knew Gaspard was a bastard but I didn't think he'd feed me to fucking horrors over a bill!"

"Gaspard lured you out here?" Zanrye asked.

"Well his sister did." The man explained. "But it had to come from him, didn't it? All that garbage she was spewing—doesn't mean anything. I bet Gaspard's the mastermind."

"You think you were tied up and left for dead over a bill?" Zanrye asked skeptically. "And who are you anyway? You sound Ferelden—aren't you a mercenary for Gaspard?"

"Born and raised in Denerim." The man said proudly. "The duke wanted to move on the palace tonight but didn't have enough fancy chevaliers. So he hired me and my men. Had to pay triple our rate to get us to Orlais."

"Inquisitor." Cassandra's voice came out. Zanrye nodded at her without looking.

"Want to sign onto the Inquisition? We could always use a good merc company—and we pay much better than Gaspard can." Zanrye said.

"You hiring huh?" The man asked. "I'm game. Anything's better than this bullshit. Hey, you need me to talk to the empress or the court or sing a blasted song in the chantry, you got it. Thanks for saving my ass."

The man walked away then, grumbling still as he did, "Andraste's tits" repeated over and over.

"Come on." Zanrye said. "We have to get to the ballroom now."

"And hopefully not run into trouble along the way." Dorian added.

Trouble found them a few turns later. More Venatori agents. Florianne was thorough, ensuring that even if the rift did not hold them long enough, they'd die to the agents. But after winning in that battle and a renewed vigor, Zanrye and the three others tore through the venatori. The mage, the assassins, and even a brute they brought—very unlike their inconspicuous style. But all fell underneath Zanrye's sword and the flurry of fire and ice that flew from the staffs of Dorian and Solas. He was beginning to run by the time they'd encountered the third group. Would they even make it in time? No bells had rung but they wouldn't now that the hour was so late.

Zanrye felt that he was bleeding in his side where the previous assassin had gotten him. It was a shallow wound but it still hurt. His shoulder was mostly numb. But his wrist was what really hurt the most. The demon had scratched a bit deep it seemed and the stinging made him constantly have to shake his hand out. It was not bleeding freely any longer as the blood had dried on there. He knew his left cheek was bruised as well—from his encounter with the Venatori from a few hours earlier beginning to take form now that so much time had passed. He knew he looked a bit of a mess. And, as they finally got out of sight of their foes, Zanrye had a small smile on his face as he wondered what Vivienne would say about the state of his clothes, what Leliana would say about the state of his boots, and what Josephine would say about the state of his bloody hand.

* * *

PRESENT

BALLROOM

He entered the ballroom not to a scene of commotion as he expected. But to a scene of calm. Nothing had happened yet. He had made it…they had made it.

"Maker…" he heard a few men mutter at the state of him. Zanrye said nothing, instead walking into the room further to scope out the scene.

He saw Gaspard and Florianne entering from one wing. The Duchess took one look at Zanrye and her fear was paramount. He eyed her with contempt, and turned away to see Cullen coming to him, nearly out of breath.

"Thank the Maker you're here." He said. "Celene's about to do her speech. What should we do?"

Zanrye looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Briala standing in the crowd, waiting as well. She made eye contact with him and he with her. She had a stone look on her face and nodded to him. He raised his hand slightly and made his index and middle finger cross over each other. Briala's face was surprised and she arched her brow. Zanrye raised his hand flat and indicated for her to wait and see. Cullen saw him and tried to find out who he was signaling.

"Wait here." He told the man, "I'm going to have a word with the Duchess."

"What?" Cullen was shocked. "There's no time! Celene will begin her speech any moment!"

"Exactly." Zanrye said. "And I need to be near the Duchess so that she can't strike."

He left Cullen there, dumbfounded, and walked across the great stairs and ballroom floor to the Duchess. He caught eyes with Vivienne and jerked his head for her to follow and she nodded and began on her own route, carving her way through the crowds as he was. He came upon the Duchess standing before where Celene was due to come out, waiting with both Gaspard and Briala now. Zanrye spoke loudly.

"We owe the court one more show, your Grace!" He called out, voice carrying. There was an audible gasp in the room and he did not look anywhere else but them, save for when his eyes made sure Vivienne was coming. The Duchess turned and so did the others. Briala kept her eyes on his hands, waiting for another message.

"Inquisitor." She said, mouth a thin line. Celene had finally arrived as well. Zanrye came up the steps, his voice full of contempt and venom.

"Everyone is watching us, why don't you smile." Zanrye smirked as he walked up to her. "This may be your last chance to end this with dignity. And be thankful I'm giving you that—I know you're just a pawn in Corypheus's game."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Florianne said, backing away as he advanced.

"Really?" He asked loudly. "You've already forgotten trying to kill me in the garden just a moment ago?" His voice carried into the halls. Florianne's eyes were like fire but she was silent as the whispers and jeers buzzed throughout the place. Zanrye crossed his arms behind his back and strolled around her, his sword ever in reach. "You arranged for Gaspard to be here so that all eyes would be on him…and not on you. That way, you could carry out your plans." He stopped in front of Celene and spoke with eyes on her but words for Florianne. "So…when that council emissary stumbled into the wrong room, you killed him and would pin it on Gaspard." He stopped before her. "You've gathered the entire court and Gaspard and the Empress here tonight …all bunched together, just waiting to be taken out in one fell swoop by Corypheus."

"This…is all very entertaining." She said the words smoothly but her face was pale as snow. "But surely you don't think anyone believes your wild stories do you?"

"That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin." Celene said firmly.

"Gaspard!" Florianne said, anxiousness coming to her voice. "You don't believe this do you? You know I would never—"

Midsentence, the Duke shook his head and stepped away from her, climbing the stairs, his anger radiating off of him. Briala followed him, her eyes on Zanrye: he stuck out his index and middle finger together vertically and brought them down to a horizontal position. She gave no physical indication she had heard him but blinked and looked away, climbing the stairs as well.

"You lost this fight hours ago, Florianne." Zanrye said to her softly, a wicked smile on his face. "A pity that…you're the last to find out."

The guards moved in on her and as she backed away, her was suddenly frozen still as Vivienne encased her in ice to cease her movements. She gave Zanrye a nod and he smiled at his mage. She let the guards detain the Duchess before she finally broke the spell.

"Your imperial majesty." Zanrye said with a hard voice. "I think we should speak in private." He was glaring at Celene as well. He nodded to Cullen and Leliana and made his way over to where the three peace talkers were going to convene. He caught up behind them as the squabbles began prematurely and he softly touched the small of Briala's back before they all exited outside onto the terrace.

"Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard." Briala said harshly.

"You're the spymaster." Gaspard said. "If anyone knew this was coming, it was you. I knew nothing of Florianne's plans but you…you knew it all and did nothing!"

"I don't know which is better," Briala smirked. "That you think I'm all-seeing or that you're trying to play innocent and failing."

"Enough!" Celene said firmly, her face angry. "We will not bicker while Tevinter plots on our nation. I will have answers and I will have them now!"

"I was only able to catch Florianne in time because of Briala's evidence…your grace." Zanrye said in a soft, aloof voice.

"You were working together then?" Celene asked, her eyes surprised.

"Not for the whole of it." Zanrye said, eyeing Briala, "But when she showed me the plots by Gaspard on your life, I knew that she was my best way to keep you alive…and keep Florianne's plot from coming to fruition."

"But Gaspard is not completely innocent either—of crimes against the throne." Briala said.

"No." Zanrye agreed. "Together…we were able to find notes from Gaspard to his general ordering troops to move covertly onto the palace grounds."

"It was a defensive choice," Gaspard said simply. "I expected betrayal just…not by my sister." Zanrye said nothing but Briala taunted.

"Keep talking Gaspard." She said scathingly. "Eventually you'll convince somebody."

"Then there were the threats Gaspard made to the council of Heralds, bullying them into giving him the crown." Zanrye said.

"So I am a bully?" Gaspard laughed. "Is that the worst you can say of me?"

"Oh, and his mercenary captain will be happy to tell you all his plans for the coup tonight." Zanrye said lazily. Gaspard's face closed and the man was furious. Celene glared at him and then leveled the Inquisitor with a stare.

"You…were able to find this…" She said.

"Briala and I." Zanrye said, waving his arm in the direction of the ambassador. "As I said, when we combined our information, we were able to cover more ground and get further. Good thing we did, for the sake of your life. Your majesty."

"In light of overwhelming evidence, we have no choice but to name you an enemy to the empire, Gaspard." Celene said. "You are hereby sentenced to death." Zanrye said nothing as the guards came to take Gaspard away to the dungeons. He stood straighter however.

"I would ask if we could speak later, your majesty." Zanrye said. "About Gaspard's sentencing…I feel there may be use for him in other areas."

"We will see." Celene said to Zanrye, not making any promises.

"I also want to make sure that Briala gets rewarded." He said in a stately voice, turning to the elven woman. "The Inquisition could not have done this without you and are fully ready to compensate you with anything you deem acceptable for your service to our allies in Orlais"

"I do not need any, Inquisitor." Briala said humbly, eyeing Celene shyly. "None at all from you either your majesty. I…I'm just glad you are safe." Celene's eyes were glossy.

"I can scarcely believe you did all of this for me." She said softly. Briala looked down, with one single whisper of, "Celene…" The Empress turned her eyes, full of affection and gratitude back onto Zanrye.

"Thank you Inquisitor. For all your efforts tonight. I owe you my life and Orlais owes you its future." She said. "I must go speak to the guards but come with me to address the people."

She left them there, wiping hastily at her face—no doubt drying her earing eyes. As soon as she was gone, Briala turned her gaze to Zanrye and crossed her own index and middle finger.

"Life." She said. "Why the change?" She had her hands on her hips. "Were you testing me?"

"No." Zanrye shook his head. "It's as I said before…plans may change. And they did. Corypheus wanted Celene's death specifically. That means she had to stay alive." He eyed Briala proudly. "And from your response…about Gaspard and Celene…I knew that you could handle the task of persuading Celene just as you could handle dealing with Gaspard."

"You would have had more of a puppet with Gaspard." Briala said.

"But with either one, you can help the elves." Zanrye told her plainly. "And I have my own blackmail against Celene." He looked out at the Empress relaying orders. "I only hope things will go smoothly for you with her…. She believes your affection for her is what caused all of this, her being saved from assassination."

"Only half the truth now…" Briala said slowly. She sighed. "But I do know her better than Gaspard and how to move her…and…now I suppose I have more will to move her." She turned to eye the empress as well. "And I can enjoy the time we will have…and do my job at the same time." She turned back to Zanrye. "I'm going to deceive her…. It's never been something I could ever see myself doing. And yet here I am."

"You won't need to push yourself." Zanrye said. "Only do enough to start her on course for the elves. That's all I need from you right now."

"I know." Briala said. "I just…." She thought. "I guess I only just realized what you meant…."

"When?" Zanrye asked her.

"Back in the Hall of Heroes." She said. "When you spoke of my being ambassador for the elves and not putting them first…you were right." She sighed. "I was willing to settle for their sluggish progression…instead protecting the woman who…who destroyed their homes when they rebelled." She sighed. "The love…was always unequal between us." She looked to the sky. "Because unlike me…she knew to put her people before her lover. But I did not do the same." She was silent for a moment. "But if she had put me first…and I her…" She looked to Zanrye, "then I feel…or wonder…what a love that would have been to someone like you."

"To a Dalish?" He smiled at her. She smiled back, giggling now.

"Yes." She said. "To a Dalish…" Zanrye did not say anything for a moment, gazing out at the moon before them. He did not even ponder the question really…not before he spoke.

"I wonder the same." He said slowly, turning to her and finally feeling the connection that they both shared, for the first time that night. "I used to think that there was no way that any true elf could love a shem…feel for one. But as you said…what happens when the sh…human…truly loves the elf? When she…loves the elf not in spite of him being an elf but embracing him fully, his culture and race and all. What happens when she's willing to endure and resist and fight for him—as well as disagree with him for his own good?" He looks to Briala now and sees her studying his face, deciphering his words. He has a wistful look. "We all need reality checks, I know. For many city elves…you all need to understand that those types of relationships are scarce and that's usually not the case in most shem-elf relations…so Dalish are, and other elves should be, mindful of their possibly being taken advantage of." He gave her a sad smile and scoffed before he continued, "But even the purest of elves…many Dalish…need to accept and recognize that they do exist…and that's the hardest lesson for the champions of even life and history to learn…especially firsthand." Briala's eyes were locked and she did not say a word. He sighed, watching as Celene turned back to come to them. "The love…is not the problem…it's the question of what type it is…and it's up to the elf to be able to discern that."

Celene waved for them to join her. Zanrye nodded his head and followed her back into the ballroom with Briala in tow. They were walking back into the fray, before the eyes of the entire court once more, the hundreds of faces looking upon the three of them, cheering and clapping. Zanrye knew he looked horrible but he couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"You have done much for my people…and for us." Celene said softly to him, eyeing Briala lovingly. Briala smiled back at her.

"We won't forget this." She said softly.

"And what plans do you two have now? Zanrye asked. Celene's smile grew bigger and Briala's grew a bit more shy but she spoke up.

"There will be some changes to the court." She said proudly.

"Not just the court." Celene interjected. Briala was surprised and the Empress just smiled. "Come, stand with us Inquisitor while we give the nobles the good news."

She led the two of them to the banister overlooking the crowd. Zanrye held his hands behind his back and watched as they all listened to the Empress.

"Lords and ladies of the court. This is a night of celebration." She said, voice carrying to all. "Those who sought to poison our empire with reason have been brought to justice. It is a new age for Orlaise. We shall build a world in which all men and women live in harmony." She smiled at Briala. "Let the cornerstone of change be laid. I introduce the newest member of our court: Marquise Briala of the Dales." Briala was surprised but stepped forward and Zanrye couldn't help his grin. Celene was hooked alright and was going the extra mile. Everything according to plan. He only hoped Briala could find happiness in this state….

"This is not just a victory for halamshiral." Briala said, voice filled with passion. "Or within the empire. Or even the elves alone." She paused. "This is a triumph for everyone! Over a thousand years ago, in the Valarian fields, elves and humans together defeated the imperium. We can do so much more now. We are greater than our ancestors ever dreamed!" She looked to Zanrye. "We will start by saving our world from the enemy who took the divine and tore the sky apart!"

"This evening shows what can happen when we join forces." Zanrye said to the crowd. "Whether that be elf and human, or Orlais with the Inquisition. Our enemies are coming, and we will be prepared for them when they do. And we will not let them succeed in dividing us."

"We are already tracking these tevinter agents. Soon, they'll have no place to hide." Briala said, her voice fierce and full of fire that would get any person to their feet.

"But that is tomorrow." Celene said smoothly. "Tonight, we will celebrate our newfound fellowship. Let the festivities commence!"

The cheers were near deafening. He had gotten in his plug, Briala had become a member of the court, and now he had elven spies and Celene in his pocket. He smiled as well as he made his way away from the commotion. He had done it…he had played the game. He had been offered pieces to select and routes to take but he had forged his own. And Zanrye truly felt…that he had won.

* * *

PRESENT

TERRACE (OUTSIDE BALLROOM)

He was able to make it out to the terrace, away from all the noise and drinking before he was roped in by some noble here or there. It was hard to take in that this was real. Everything he wanted—or hoped to dream might happen—had. He might even be able to keep Gaspard alive as well. He was almost dizzy as the cool air hit him. He inhaled it lightly and let the quiet come upon him. It had been a lot of work winning.

"The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory and you are not present to hear them?" He heard Morrigan's voice in his ears. He turned to her. She came up to stand beside him. "Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations Inquisitor? Tis to fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf."

"I would have stayed." He shrugged. "But then the punch ran dry and…" He shrugged. This made her laugh. He laughed with her. He had not been scared of this mage since he first laid eyes on her. He couldn't think of why Leliana feared her so.

"Indeed." She said. "Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly." She looked at him. "By imperial decree, I have been named Liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid, including mine. Congratulations."

Zanrye was surprised. His eyes narrowed slightly and then he looked away and back.

"And what can you do exactly Morrigan?" He asked.

"Let's just say I have knowledge that falls outside of the realm of…most mages." She said.

"I already have Solas for that." Zanrye said flatly, but his tone slightly teasing as well. "I don't think he'll take kindly to another trying to steal his spot."

"Well, the more knowledge, the merrier." She said. "I suspect Corypheus also has as much. Thus, it would behoove you to add to your arcane arsenal yes?" He thought on her words.

"Yes." He said. "But what magic are you talking about?" Before she could answer, he said, "It sounds as if you're speaking of blood magic." He sucked in tragically. "Dorian doesn't like that very much, I'm afraid."

He was challenging her. She seemed to appreciate it in a strange way.

"I know many obscure, forgotten, and forbidden arts." She said, smiling. "Some of which you may consider blood magic, yes. But if that frightens anyone, let me give my assurances that what I possess, I place at your disposal, Inquisitor. You may make use of it or ignore it as you see fit."

Zanrye didn't respond for a time. He didn't much like people being added without his knowledge. But if it has been pushed by Celene, it had probably also been pushed by Briala. And he would have both Solas and Vivienne check her out. Even Dorian too, if he could stand to come near a trained "forbidden arts" mage.

"Welcome aboard, Morrigan." Zanrye said finally.

"A most gracious response." Morrigan smiled at him. "I shall meet you at Skyhold."

She left him and Zanrye was once more alone with his thoughts. Another new development that night. He didn't know if he needed her but more help was never negative. And the truth was, they did need more mages to battle all the ancient power Corypheus had at his disposal.

It was only a matter of time. This was thrice he'd foiled the demon's plans and four times he'd lived after these such encounters. No doubt the demon king was angry. And he'd be coming for them all soon. Zanrye knew trainers were on their way. He knew wardens were waiting, hiding, missing. It was time to start preparing for the day of reckoning.

The hand was soft that came to rest on his back. He looked to see Josephine had come to bend over the rail with him, smiling at him as she did so. He took her in, moon lighting her face. She had a small look of earnestness and worry in her features.

"Is everything alright?" She asked. "You look…troubled."

Zanrye stared at her for a brief moment before he shook his head, looking back towards the railing and then to her again, a small smile on his face, one not entirely genuine.

"I'm just worn out." He said with a sigh. "Tonight has been…very long." He looked out into the sky as he spoke. He tiredness was taking him but he felt calm in her presence…and became even more vulnerable. He didn't know if it was the game or the talk he'd had with Briala, or the Orlesian wine he'd sipped, but he felt very…in touch with Josephine. And more vulnerable than ever before. After all that had happened tonight…he didn't know what he would feel. But he certainly did not expect to feel as though he'd stood next to an electric current that was constantly flowing and taking him along.

"It was a tumultuous evening." She said softly, tenderly. "And you will need to see a healer as soon as we get back to Skyhold." She softly touched his wrist, blood clots on it. She tsked. "I suppose we can only be thankful it was not something worse…." She nudged him, "But…Orlais is safe now. We beat Corypheus again. I suppose it is worth the struggle."

"And on top of that, the well-dressed horrors want to be friends." He said, teasing creeping into his calm tone. "I guess we really will have to invite them to dinner now." She let out a giggle that sent ripples through Zanrye and he found that he couldn't suppress a shiver. That made her grip his shoulder tighter, as if beginning a massage. Her voice was kind.

"Tonight was a triumph," She concluded. "You should be proud. You saved the empress—and at least sent Gaspard to prison for the time being, whatever will be done with him. And you even managed to make the Ambassador be on good terms with the Empress…a step in the right direction for Orlais' elven-human relations." She smiled bright at him. "Everything happened so right…and you made it that way. Everyone here owes you their lives."

He looked at her and smiled back, soaking her in. She was talking to him, when he felt alone. She was telling him things with enthusiasm, encouraging him. She was… _what I need…what I want_ exactly when he needed it. Her presence alone was soothing him. He straightened slightly.

"You're right." He said finally. "It was a victory…." He chuckled. "But the game's…a little bit too rich for my blood." His eyes glinted at her. "I'll leave the maneuvers to you, my lady." She giggled once more but could sense his weariness still because in an instant, her hand was rubbing his shoulder. It sent waves of calm down his arms and dopamine all throughout his body. It was like getting high but without the displacement of the dream feeling.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked him softly. Her eyes were attentive. "Can I get you anything? A drink perhaps?" Her hand was firmly on his shoulder and her eyes were wide, ready to run to his rescue. He eyed her for a moment, watching her watch him with eyes that told of motives of selflessness. He blinked and looked around.

She had come out to see him…presumably for something else, not to be his errand girl. And yet here she was, offering to be at his beck and call and ease his pain. He looked back to her, to those eyes full of affection and caring…for him. He thought back to her sister's comments…and then back to when he spoke to Florianne before their dance….

And then he stood slowly and walked a few steps away from her, his body buzzing as if a fade rift were nearby. He suddenly knew exactly what she had wanted, what she was willing to give up for his comfort. But he didn't want the drink, or even sleep anymore. He wanted…exactly what she wanted. He stopped after three steps and then turned back to her awaiting gaze.

"We actually…didn't get a chance take the floor ourselves…in all the commotion," he said, voice softer than he expected. "You told me my moves were noteworthy…." He bowed low, offering up his hand to her and saw her eyes go wide with excitement she tried her best to contain. _Oh yes, that's what she wanted_. "Would you care to dance…Lady Josephine?"

She hesitated and then let her small smile come out. Her own hand reached out and placed itself on his own, her feet moving her closer to him.

"I…was hoping you'd ask my lord" She said even softer than him. Zanrye smiled at her and placed his wounded hand on her waist, holding their others palm to palm as her free hand came to rest on his shoulder. He moved slowly and started their pattern…back…right…forward. He placed his feet next to hers, guiding her along. She followed his every step.

Zanrye didn't know how it happened but in a moment, he found that he was lost in the moment. Literally, lost. He had no concept of their time or even what was around them. He guided her, lightly elegantly as if they were floating. They moved back…and right…and spun to reverse… and then back…and then left…. Her face was bright and her eyelids were heavy as if she too were in a trance. He held her body close to his own, hand securely at her waist, their thighs touching every time they came to a rest. He was pleasantly warm, despite the breeze.

She did not speak but then she did not have to. Their movements were slow, and fluid. Not fast and intricate. He turned her in his arms, reaching the length of her arms as he had with Florianne. But this time, the actions felt more…personal. He bent with her and turned her back to him, bringing her even closer to him if that was possible, both her hands on his shoulders, both his hand sin her waist. The action made him inhale (he hoped not too loudly). Josephine looked down, into his chest. He turned them again, bodies melding together with the music.

His eyes met a retreating figure. Briala stood seemingly backing away the way she came. When they connected eyes, she just gave him a small smile and a nod before leaving the area completely. Zanrye was distracted for but a moment and in that instant, Josephine's eyes came to look upon him. Zanrye looked back down to hers and felt the air leave his stomach and lungs.

She gave him a small, serene smile that he returned with equal timidity. But he was not scared. Rather…he was…bashful. He looked into her eyes, her essence filling his vision, her body fitting into his, the music filling the space around them and encompassing them in the evening.

He realized that he thought she was beautiful. _The most beautiful woman I've ever seen_

He realized that her hand fit perfectly into his. _Like the petals and the stamen in a Crystal Grace_

He knew that this epiphany, this moment of eureka was displayed on his face for in a moment, her voice piped up, adding to the atmosphere that now encompassed them. She did not break the spell that had overtaken them. She solidified it.

"Does your…wound pain you?" She asked him. She interrupted the moment she wished for since the start of the night with a question about him. She wanted to make sure he was okay, that he was enjoying what she was enjoying as much as he could.

He realized that her pleasure gave him pleasure. _Her happiness swelling inside my own chest_.

"No." He said, looking at her with eyes of adoration and submission. "This is perfect."

He realized that this moment between them was indeed perfect.

Just the two of them, away from the pressures of the courts, the masses, their families…. This time, with her womanly frame pressed to him, her hand gripping his shoulder and her head slowly coming to rest on that very same shoulder as the night wore on…. With his arms coming around her as he continued their waltz which morphed into a graceful shuffle, bodies close to keep their heat safe from the attack of the winds….

This time…this woman…this dance…this ending to the game played by those with wicked eyes and wicked hearts…was perfect.

* * *

 **PART THREE/THREE of Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts**

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

Briala uses Celene's infatuation to manipulate her so that the elves can obtain equality and opportunity. Briala is an agent of the Inquisition now. She chose Gaspard to live rather than Celene but (as Florianne wanted to kill Celene specifically) I always thought it best save her.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

Solas's hat was fugly. This was for Solas fans who hated it as well.

Had to explain the "kinda advanced" toilet system. I don't want that just chamberpot shit.

I don't think Gaspard's a bad guy either. In fact, if he's allowed to kick Ferelden's ass then he'd probably be the best ally for you. He's an opportunist is all.

Fyi: no one in the Inquisition but Zanrye knows about his network of spies with Briala or his deal with her. He's alone on this one.

Hand motion was when you cross your fingers as if swearing to keep a secret. It meant life.


	15. Innocents in Love and War

**[MESSAGE: It's long again. Sue me. Bet you'll like it anyway]**

* * *

SKYHOLD

Zanrye woke from a deep sleep, groaning as he did so. It has been just a few days since the peace talks and he had slept through most of them, awaking every day only to bathe and eat. His dreams were full of masks and statues of the elven gods and goddesses. They were full of gardens and forests, elves hiding behind every tree—mythal revealing them when she pleased.

He also dreamt of Josephine, in a dress much like Celene's but with a corset detailed with golden swirls and a higher collar which only served to accentuate her breasts rather than hide them. He dreamed of them in the forests, with the Winter Palace still in sight. They danced together, under the moon and stars. She'd gotten a ring of flowers to place in her hair and he'd gotten a chain of gold to hang around his neck. She'd been breathless and graceful, and couldn't keep her hands off him. She'd swayed her body on him the entire dance until he'd finally taken her into his lap, face to face, and fucked her like both their lives depended on it.

He'd woken from that with a start, his bed wet and his heart pumping steadily but reverberating throughout his entire body.

Now he rose, chewed his morning leaves, relieved himself, and chose a simple tunic and pants. Today, he was going to get up.

He'd thought about it two days before and decided against it even though it felt like a million years since he'd walked across Skyhold, and also a million years since the Winter Palace.

But then, the night before last, he'd had the dream…. And even without it, the one thing that seemed to dominate his mind regarding any and all affairs…was her.

He had an anticipation, an ache, like he'd never known before. It was not just curiosity or intrigue but some loneliness that befell him after what had taken place between them at the Winter Palace. And really after all that had occurred between them. He'd honestly never felt so …giddy when thinking of another person before, save for family and friends, and the giddiness there was different than here. It was not the same feeling. This one was based dually on eroticism as well as amity.

He wanted to see her. He'd avoided the work and duties that came along with going out of his room for long enough. His hiding came at the loss of Josephine's presence. This was no longer an option for him as his body aches sent him out of bed and searching for her to fill the void.

He put his simple tunic back and instead produced a nice blue one. He kept the khaki pants. He belted his pants as he headed to his stairs, stopping by his mirror to fix his wavy hair, making it sit down and straighten. He didn't want her to think he'd just rolled out of bed when he saw her.

He made his way out to the open foyer where the throne sat and the business transactions were all held. He had to hand it to the Inquisition team—this place looked nice in just a few weeks' time. They had buffed the floors, shined the windows, and sat up tables and posts at every door, weaving a long red carpet from the entrance to the throne which was constantly cleaned so that the mud from outside would not stain the hall.

Her office was near the door leading to Zanrye's own room and he slipped in.

It was surprisingly empty. He frowned, not expecting it to be. A strong disappointment and near panic started to come to him as he wondered if he might possibly miss her today.

He walked past her office to the war council chambers, thinking maybe the small council convened without him. He opened the door onto not the council but Cole. He didn't even stop to speak to the man but Cole caught him anyway as he tried to back out. Zanrye internally kicked himself. He didn't want to talk to anyone—not today. _No one but her—just her_.

"Leliana feels turmoil." The man said in his ever-floaty voice. Zanrye eyed him.

"Okay…." He said. He suspected that Leliana felt turmoil most of the time.

"She asked about you yesterday." Cole told him. This was intriguing. Zanrye stopped to look at the spirit and debated.

"Why?" He gave in.

"I could read her mind…see her irritation…suspicion…her anger." Cole said.

"About what?" Zanrye asked, stunned. They'd just had a victory a few days ago. What the hell had gone wrong in that short time!?

"Her anger is at you, Inquisitor." Cole said. Zanrye blinked. "She has a mind towards interrogating you and scaring you."

"What did I do?" Zanrye was beyond stunned. And then he was afraid. Did she…know about his pact with Briala? She supported the elf but Zanrye hadn't even told her of the agreement. He just didn't know who to trust quite yet. But had she found out? Did she interpret this as betrayal?

Before Cole could give him his answer, Zanrye was shaking his head and left the room. He knew he needed to get to the bottom of this—to fix this—now. He didn't know what Leliana may have up her sleeve but she wouldn't hurt him in front of everyone in the Inquisition.

He walked to circle tower and climbed the steps. Solas was also gone. Curious, everyone was out and about today. He climbed, passing to the second landing where he indeed saw his spy master tending to reports from her agents. Zanrye steeled himself, ready to be berated—in whatever form it came. He strode forward and walked up to her. Her eyes fell on him and he saw exactly what Cole had foreshadowed to him.

"Inquisitor." She said to him, her voice plain. "I'm glad I've run into you." She stood now, a bit taller than him. Zanrye swallowed and kept his face plain. A thousand excuses came to mind about what she may or may not know. He did not know yet which he would use.

"You need something from me, Leliana?" He asked, his throat dry.

"Yes." She said and continued on without hesitation. "I…have noticed that you have done…a great deal for Lady Josephine…paying her compliments and helping her and the like…."

Zanrye did not speak for a moment. He did not expect this angle for the conversation at all. His brow furrowed as confusion settled and he spoke hesitantly.

"Yes." He said slowly, his heart rate going down since she didn't automatically threaten to expose his deal with Briala. "She's my ally…and my friend."

"So it would seem." Leliana replied, eyes narrow. "You even saved her a dance…." Zanrye's eyes widened ever so slightly as he realized that Briala hadn't been the only one to spy the two of them at the ball. Slowly, his neck began to get hot. He was beginning to realize what she was implying…what she knew. She continued, "An entanglement with our ambassador would be… most unwise." Her voice was clipped at the end and her glare was apparent. Zanrye felt attacked and he couldn't understand what for. She was calling him out, not the other way around.

"…what do you mean?" He asked her, knowing his voice sounded small and apprehensive.

"I asked Josephine to join the Inquisition because we need a diplomat. Not so she could be toyed with." Her words were harsh now and her tone was slowly becoming threatening. Zanrye knew his own eyes were affronted, his whole demeanor defensive. "It would be a pity for me to tamper with your supper over this," Leliana did not relent and Zanrye suppressed a shudder, knowing she could, "But she is a very dear friend, one that is worth such an act on my part."

Never in a million years did Zanrye think he would be having the conversation that he was having with Leliana now. But even with how crazy it all was, it felt oddly familiar to him. He couldn't name why until it hit him suddenly that he'd always been the one in Leliana's position.

"Josephine is no stranger to courtly intrigue," Leliana continued, seeing as he did not respond, "But what you're making her feel? There…she is an innocent." Zanrye swallowed and still said nothing. She continued, "In truth, she tells me of your displays of affection one week…and then I hear no more of you unless I manage to get that you are best left to your elven comrades." Leliana's voice was clear. "The gifts, the dance…. Josephine does not think you're truly attracted to her, if indeed you are." She said this with a tone so disdainful that Zanrye had to respond, prickling.

"What do you have against me being attracted to Josephine?" He demanded. He felt the familiar disgust at the racism of shems rise within him and he knew that Leliana could sense it as she scanned his face, taking in ears and all.

"It is not a matter of what you think," She rolled her eyes. "But I have not known you long, Inquisitor. Neither had Josephine. And what I see from you…know of you…is not something I can determine is right for my friend." She pauses. "Her heart is easily carried away. I guard it. And I want to make sure that it's going to be taken by someone who truly cares about her." Her eyes bore into Zanrye's. "Without…reservation, cultural or otherwise."

Zanrye did not speak, looking away, knowing what she was talking about, turning the racism card back onto him. He felt like he was being hounded, which he was. He suddenly felt the yearning to escape. He'd just come out to see Josephine, not deal with this.

"Do you not speak up to deny it? Or affirm it?" Leliana glared at him. Zanrye sighed, his heart beating quicker at being put on the spot. He was near sweating as his eyes refused to meet the woman staring him down. All of this—because he'd left his room. He wanted to go back to it now. Forget this ever happened maybe. Get away from her knowing eyes and her accusations that were trying to force a confession out of Zanrye—one he wasn't sure he was prepared to give her of all people—

"You listen." Her voice was sharp and startled him. "If you do feel anything for Josephine, I want to know." She glared at him. "Now!"

"Yes." The word came out of his mouth before he could stop it or think about it. He swallowed before he uttered the rest, face hot, "I'm very…I have some feelings towards Josephine."

"Is that so?" Leliana asked, eyes narrow, tone implying she didn't buy it. "I guess we'll see their course then won't we? All I can say is that whatever is between you, you watch yourself and treat her with kindness—for your sake much more than hers."

"I get it." Zanrye huffed, taking a step away from the tigress before him. He did not want to be under the microscope any longer. But even though he resented her for making him utter his secret aloud and for backing him into a corner with threats of poison and sabatoge, he couldn't help but feel impressed by Leliana, and her acting as he had always for Mima. He sighed and spoke to her deadly eyes, "At least Josephine has a friend who cares for her this much." Leliana did not change her posture but her voice softened ever so slightly.

"I have few friends these days." She said. "Those who remain…I deeply cherish." She was hard once more. "Know that I am always watching. And I will know if anything happens." She backed away. "Good day…your worship."

* * *

13 YEARS EARLIER

TEVINTER IMPERIUM FORESTS

18 year old Zanrye was helping Keeper as usual. After he helped the hunters secure the next day's meals, he was instantly summoned to aid the Keeper's mages in the transactions that would take place between them and the Tevinterfolk in this particular town. They set up tents near a town of happy-go-lucky mages who were happy to trade with the magical elves in their camp, thinking them of another shem household no doubt.

Zanrye judged the goods as they got them, in desperate need of rashvine and honey. The merchants wanted to plow them with much and impress them. The elves adopted northern accents as best as they could as they did business with these shems. Their regular Dalish accents were shared among near all tribes, those stemmed from Dales and otherwise. But this accent was not 100%. Clan Lavellan itself was a bit of a mix where nearly one tenth of the clan spoke different accents, Zanrye included. He and his mother had both shared a more Fereldenesque accent, his being adopted from her.

His family history was a mix itself. His maternal great grandmother had been a city elf who was adopted as a young woman. She'd run off to join the Dalish. She birthed his maternal grandfather who took after her accent. His grandfather'd lost his wife during the birth of Zanrye's mother, making Rista Lavellan an only child and motherless. Her father was her parental influence. And at that time, Clan Lavellan tried to cross the seas to broker a type of trade relationship with the shems in Ferelden. Living in Ferelden (with a father who carried a Ferelden-esque accent) for 20 years of her life had made the Ferelden accent stay with Rista. And when Zanrye was born and lost his father, he clung to his mother's speech in turn. He had developed a slight "Dalish" (Dale) accent on certain words but for the most part held a steady Ferelden one.

But now they had to pretend a northern one—spoken by the Tevinter nobles and street folk alike, in different ways.

They completed the tasks, even though they butchered some of the accent, they probably suspected that the elves were simply of lower class.

Heading back into camp, they passed by guards and walked onto scenes of their mages playing with fire and water, their hunters training, and children running about. The open space was something they'd been denied in their Orlais area for a bit. They were appreciating every moment of it now. There were no "houses" set up, only tents made of water resistant draping and held up with poles, mats lining the floors rather than thick padding or wooden slabs.

He had bought an extra piece of steel for his sister. She had liked to fashion arrowheads and other smaller, figurines out of the scraps. She was attracted to metallurgy which would serve her well in the future, if she indeed chose hunters as he was going to once he came into manhood.

He spotted his father's tent and walked in, not seeing her there but seeing his father. He smiled small at the man and wrapped his arms around his shoulders in greeting. Narvez sat before a fire, tending it and stoking it so he could prepare food for his children that evening—and any friends who were to come over. He knew his father was a hunter at heart but since the death of Rista, Zanrye and Mima's mother, the previous year Narvez had taken on a more hearth-man role. No longer was there another parent to compensate for when he was not around. And neighbors could only do so much, which Narvez did not ask them to. He put his hunting gear away a few months ago and joined with the scouts instead, taking shifts which enabled him to be home at a reasonable hour all but two days out of the week, when Mima was to see to the house, as Zanrye could not be held back from his ever-increasing duties.

"What are we having?" Zanrye asked. "And have you seen Mima? I got something for her in town."

"Beef, beans, and these new spices I don't know the names of yet." Narvez answered. He stirred the pot in which this smorgasbord sat, smelling like heaven and looking even better. Bread was to the side, to complement the stew-ish meal.

"It looks good, ba." Zanrye said to him. "Do you want me to set up the house? Who's coming to eat with us? That's a lot of food."

"If you could, yes." Narvez said. "We're having Minita, Frepedon, Deli, Morea and her son Po of course, Nishia and her father and mother, and then some da'len who is friends with Mima."

"Small thing? Dark hair?" Zanrye asked him. Narvez nodded. "That's Ithsmai. She's not too talkative but she's nice. She'll be Mima's second for sure."

"She's nice, yes." Narvez agreed.

"I'll go see if I can catch Mima." Zanrye said. "Then I'll come back with her and prepare." He moved closer to the man, the grey that did not exist there a year ago now start in the back of his head. "I can lead the dinner if you want to sleep early too, ba."

"Thank you." Narvez said appreciatively. "I don't know if that will be necessary, son, but thank you anyway." He sighs. "I think Mima is still down at the left-camp forest edge. She had been riding the horses." Zanrye nodded to him, thanked him, and left.

He strode along the path. The tents reminded him of little vandal aria if they were inverted. Their tops were curved and held in an almost square/circle manner. Smoke billowed from the back openings as fires were lit, and the fronts were closed by the ties but otherwise completely unlocked and unprotected.

They needn't worry about thievery here. Or vandalism or molestation of their bodies by their clan. There was a trust here, shared by all. Even when they settled and locked or enchanted their houses, that was to safekeep their own secrets or ward against possible shems coming into camp to steal things when they were away or if they were attacked. It was not to ward against each other. There was a respect had for each individual elf and it would disrespect any and all the Gods to do such an injustice to a fellow Dalish.

Zanrye left the campsite and walked over to the edge of the forest, searching for hoof prints and other signs of activity as he did not see his sister automatically. He scanned into the trees, so thick that the forest seemed blackish green without the proper lighting of the sun above. Zanrye ventured in, still looking. He saw some leaves out of place and patterns mussed. Someone had come through here—someone of their clan. But his sister?

He walked further in and came to many areas where either a left or right venture was needed to be determined. Zanrye chose left, following the peculiarly out-of-place placement of branches and the overturned rocks (he supposed they'd be overturned).

He heard water after a time. That was the creek they all visited from time to time—not much water could come from it and the wildlife in it needed it more. He walked along the edge of it when he finally was able to see something. A horse. It was tied to a nearby boulder. He walked over to it as its breathing became louder and louder for his ears to perceive. He patted its nose lightly and then looked around for his sister. He thought of calling her name but decided against it, as she might think it was funny to play a trick on him and run.

He walked around the horse and followed the opening up a steady-rising incline where there was a more carved out space for travelers. He rose further and further and knew he was reaching the top of a hill where he would be able to see his clan site maybe—or at least the edge.

He ducked under a low branch, seeing sun through the darkness of the thick foliage, and then voices came to his ears. Two of them. One of them was his sister's. The other…was male. The male that Zanrye particularly did not care for named Regnoa. Zanrye kept up and along and soon he could see the edge of this partial climb leading to the hill. And the two figures started to also be seen, starting with the tips of their heads. The voices did not match.

"No! I don't want to Reg, for mythal's sake!" he heard Mima say, her 13 year old voice yet high and filled with annoyance and even a touch of anger.

"It's just one roll. We won't get another chance!" Regnoa's voice, that of a near 16 year old, was exasperated and almost angry was well, as if he had been trying to convince her for a while and lost patience.

Zanrye continued forward, his eyes narrow and his rage beast beginning to grow in his chest. He didn't like Regnoa because the guy was a fucking annoying piece of ram turd who thought he was a lot funnier, stronger, and handsomer than he in fact was. Why his sister liked him, Zanrye had no idea. But when they started spending time together, Zanrye had given the boy more than enough glares, threats, and lectures about his sister. But the boy still chose to try and be a little more than platonic with Mima anyway. And since then, Zanrye had hated the boy because well now he was a creep too. Mima was far too young for any and all boys, especially ones nearly three years her senior.

And now Zanrye finally was able to see them at the edge and Regnoa's hands tightly around Mima's upper arms, trying to walk her over to the edge. Mima's face was not coy or sarcastic or playing at being angry. She looked genuinely annoyed—and also a little affronted. And the boy looked tired and angry and he was overriding her, forcing her to the edge.

Zanrye's eyes took this in and then the rage inside him flowed through every vein and directed his feet firmly towards the two, his fists balling and arms flexing ready to wring the boy's neck, the pedophilic, violent bastard.

Mima saw him first and her eyes widened and Regnoa finally looked Zanrye's way as well. But by that time, Zan was only a yard away and before the boy could do more than release Mima, Zanrye was on him.

His fist collided with Regnoa's face hard, sending the boy two steps back. Zanrye grabbed one of his shoulders to steady him so he could punch him again, just as hard. Regnoa was caught in the jaw and eye and put his hands up to defend himself against the assault. Zanrye took both his arms as he raised them and held them, kicking the man in the stomach and winding him. He did not truly hear or truly care about Mima's protests and wails, or any blubber coming out of Regnoa's mouth.

The boy fell to his knees and Zanrye grabbed him by his shirt and began to drag him to the edge of the hill. The roll was steeper than what would be alright to roll down, not even really walk. A sled was set up near the side, no doubt what they would have ridden down on. And there were jutting boulders, fallen branches, and even mudslides in some areas. Only a few were devoid of obstacles.

Regnoa fought Zanrye's grip as he pushed him further and further towards the edge. Mima was now absolutely screaming for Zanrye to please stop and Regnoa was screaming himself.

"You still want to go down? Hm?" Zanrye asked the boy, holding him by the collar of his tunic. He threw Reg away from him and the boy scrambled away from the edge as he did so. Mima was looking furiously at Zanrye and got into his face in an instant as Zanrye wiped the blood from his knuckles where he'd split Regnoa's lip.

"Rye!" She shrieked. "You could have killed him!"

"No means no." Zanrye shouted at Reg, ignoring his sister. Regnoa just glared at him, trying to stand. He was skinnier than Zanrye by a bit and was shorter too. He was nigh 16 to Zanrye's 18.

"Hey!" Mima's face got into his again and blocked his vision. "Rye…stop it. You shouldn't have done that to him."

"He wanted to force you down the cliff. Just wanted to see how he liked it." Zanrye said patiently. Mima sighed, exasperated and Zanrye already knew what she was feeling. In truth, the reason why she hadn't said, 'I didn't need you' or 'everything was fine' was because everything was not. Regnoa would have forced her down in the sled—and she really hadn't wanted to. Zanrye was not wrong in his assumptions. She was more-so mad at his severity. But in all honesty, she could just shove her semantical misgivings up her ass for all Zanrye cared. Scum like Regnoa didn't deserve to be dealt with gently.

"Come on." Zanrye said finally. "Ba said he wanted you down at the camp—to help set up things." He paused and then pulled out the piece of metal, almost forgotten. "And I got this for you in town. Thought you'd like to make more arrows with it or whatever."

As Mima took the metal, her face closed and she looked tired rather than angry. She could only sigh and Zanrye walked past her to Reg, who didn't meet his eye. They had had similar encounters before and he knew better than to speak up against Zanrye when he was threatening him. When it came to his sister, Zanrye would brutally kill Reg, without a second thought about the repercussions for it—and Reg knew this.

"Ma emma harel" Zanrye threatened him. "And if I ever catch you forcing Mima to do anything, I'll do worse than scare you."

He turned from the boy and walked back to the entrance of the forest then turned back, waiting for his sister. Mima seemed to debate and then she went over to Reg and whispered some words before she followed her brother back into the darkness, leaving Reg to sit down and stew. There was a silence between them as they walked back on the path, Zanrye not saying anything. Then Mima finally spoke up.

"I did a flip." She said quietly. He looked at her, puzzled. "Off the horse."

"What?" Zanrye was surprised and he felt a smile come to him. "When?"

"I managed to do it this morning." She smiled back. "By accident."

Her hand came to grab her brother's arm as they walked out the rest of the way chattering about how she was able to successfully flip from her horse, the darkness of the previous moment swallowed up by the forest and left there.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He finally found Josephine coming back in from the grounds. A Mother of the chantry was walking away and Josephine seemed distressed. Zanrye knew he should ask what it was about but he could not be deterred. His body was still numb from the verbal beating he had just received. And just seeing her…finally seeing her….

It seemed to wash away his negativity. She was in her usual cottons and silks of blue and gold, her hair plaited into a crown style. _She's beautiful_ , he thought as he made his way more and more to her. He found it somewhat easier to breathe as they closed the gap between them, the aching in his body suddenly overwhelmingly discomforting but being satisfied by wish fulfillment. He felt both self-conscious and happy. But there was still this bout with Leliana…he knew they needed to talk. There was no more waiting. Leliana had taken that away.

"Inquisitor." She smiled at him and he slowly stopped her with a solid, gentle hand.

"Leliana…just gave me quite the speech." He told her. She was puzzled.

"What about?" She asked. Zanrye paused before he could form the words. He stared at her and she at him, her confusion plain. He thought before he spoke the words but they felt like the right ones now.

"About…us." He said simply, voice as steady as he could make it. Josephine's eyes lit up with shock and immediate distress, as if she feared this would happen. And then came the irritation. She sighed and Zanrye released her.

"Oh she is impossible." She said more to the floor than to him. She inhaled deeply, as if readying herself for a harrowing and then her eyes, shy and self-conscious, met his. "Might we discuss this somewhere more…private?"

Zanrye felt his heart beat quicken. His ears went warm as blood rushed there. _Private…_. Yes, he would like that very much. He nodded to her slowly and then led her to the landing that went to his quarters. She followed him up the stairs, her muttering constantly at his back. Zanrye felt…oddly frightened…and excited…and with the strong urge to laugh. He supposed he was going crazy. But he felt calm at the prospect (which was even crazier).

He sat down on his sofa, which was near his terrace. Josephine refused to sit, demanding answers to her questions. Zanrye answered her tiredly, recounting bits and pieces.

"She…has become worried…that there's something between us and…that she is afraid I may… hurt you…because your heart…" He tried not to grin as he said it but the laughter was in his voice, "was easily carried away." Josephine was mortified and furious, pacing before him. He watched her hips go to and fro and had a faint smile as he did. _The way they sway…_.

"She speaks as if I am a child!" Josephine raged. _Oh, I know you aren't_ , Zanrye thought. "As if I don't know what I'm getting myself into with my own ventures—who does she think she is? She is not my mother!" She is breathing heavily, angry. "I know how to take care of myself, in romantic matters as all others!"

"She…told me…that you're an innocent in love, whatever that means." Zanrye said. This set Josephine off once more

"She…she said I was an innocent in love!?" She repeated, scoffing, her head shaking, her face sorrowful amidst of the anger. "I'm quite capable of understanding our association!" She breathed out hardly, her glare to the ceiling and then her eyes coming back to his.

"She…" he was at a loss. "I mean…I didn't know what to say really…." He laughed nervously.

Her face became a bit more pinched then and she was suddenly very flustered and very closed off. Zanrye couldn't help but like the flustering, even now. She swallowed and then spoke.

"I apologize that this has happened, on account of…our interactions." She said solemnly. "Let me say to you now that I did not put her up to this. I—I knew not to expect anything overly romantic to come from our relationship, I—…. Leliana just…." She sighs, at a loss.

There was silence as her words ran daggers through his head, removing any and all lighthearted notions from it and sticking like icicles. He was too stunned to speak for a moment. And then her words and the realities of the situation, in all its awkward glory, hit him.

It took all Zan's strength not to gap as the shock took him…. Leliana…was right…'she does not think you're truly attracted to her.'

 _This woman!_ 'She knew'…she could not expect anything overly romantic to come between them…? Zanrye felt his face contort in confusion. His earlier elation was gone, his body left with only remnants of it, weighed down by coldness…near hurt.

The images filled his mind as he recollected: all the swooning, his saving her family's fortunes, the near kiss in Val Royeaux… The horse rides, the gifts, the dancing at the ball…. The admittance of attraction! His confusion turned to exasperation as Josephine's humility dis-confirmed their involvement. He had not been overly direct but he wasn't subtle by a long shot.

She paced a second more before he finally decided to speak. Directly, though his eyes were to the ground rather than at her. His embarrassment wouldn't yet allow him to look upon the woman he'd craved to see just a few moments before.

"Well…. Um…maybe…I should've done something different." He said wryly. "I…was under the impression…we were… 'overly romantic.'" He could feel her eyes go to him but he looked at his lap still, blushing at having to say this at all. "But…I've never courted a…human so…I guess I don't know the proper way to…go about it…." He looked up at her, only half mocking.

The startled look, coupled with the twinkle of excitement made his ears get hot. But his face never changed. She stammered.

"Oh…I mean…" Josie was breathless. "I am not so dim as to not have noticed a…growing… fondness…yes—but I never presumed it to be more than flirtation…. I mean…I couldn't hope to think that…." _By the Creators woman!_ was all Zan could think, almost angry at her lack of assumptions about his actions. She couldn't hope to think what!? That he wasn't just flirting with her to be a flirt, toying with her!? What did she take him for!?

She continued, "I mean, to be reasonable, we only just…" She was pacing again, her face battling between hope and doubt, "I—I mean, it would be foolish to presume that this was not just the dance of intrigues…to think you…being who you are…." She was wringing her hands—dainty and long. Zan would almost laugh if this situation hadn't made him now so tightly bound.

"I'm not…of the court, Josephine" Zan stood up, taking a few firm but non-threatening steps towards her. "The dance of intrigues? I don't even know what that is…." She turned to walk more towards his balcony. Her pacing would never cease. Zanrye felt himself follow slowly.

And then a strange feeling entered him like ice water hitting his warm body. It was a very bad feeling that he couldn't discern at first. But it made his steps become slower and more deliberate. The emotion was some spin off of hurt, he could feel that much. And shame. And longing. He felt nervous. He looked to the side, thinking, rooted to the spot as the thought finally took hold.

"I mean…I thought I was…clear." He found it hard to get the words out, hard to speak as this feeling overtook him. "But…if that's not what…you anticipated…or…wanted…" She stopped now, whirling around to look at his rosy face. Her own was filled with many emotions too numerous to comprehend as he braced for his first ever rejection, if it came.

"Do not misunderstand me, Zanrye I…" She struggled. "It is not…something unwanted…. But rather something I…did not dare to…think was more than interest." She tried to wrack her brain for the right words before she blurted out, "W-we haven't even known each other but a few short months." She peered at him, breathless. "And in that time, you…our relationship evolved, yes, but there was…" she was forcing herself to speak he saw, "I mean, when your friend visited… and when the comment was made by the chronicler's guard, I…and even your own words…I …I know your feelings on…humans and…." She was blabbering now but speaking truth as she did so, truth that resonated with Zanrye. He heard, in detail, the ways in which he had indeed played his own games, toying with her, giving affection some times and not others, reluctance in his actions. These games…he did not mean to play them but in the end he had.

"I'm sorry then…if I ever gave you reason to doubt." He said softly. He paused, the shyness ever present. "I always…. I've never met a woman like you, Josephine. And I never wanted to give any…mottled signals. I…enjoy…so much about you." He looked away now. "I want to be close to you…. And, you're not just a…human to me." He struggled. "We've gotten so close—I-I tried to show it wasn't platonic…what I wanted between us…."

The pause came—the one Zan had dreaded but bared with a straight face, leaving his sentence there. He couldn't even look at her, fear overtaking him and eyelids stinging at the edges. It felt like an entire hour but Josephine in fact spoke up less than five seconds later.

"I…was interested…fancied…the idea," she said unsteadily but with a legato that made Zanrye's chest ache pleasingly, "I wished for our relationship to develop in the way some of our… encounters suggest. But your own…aversions and past and…my fears…darkened these routes." She was struggling now. "And given our positions and the number of potential matches you will have…, It felt foolish to presume our closeness held…deeper…meaning."

Zan did not know exactly what she was trying to say but he knew where she was going so he understood enough. And this whole mix seemed…silly—scary but at the end of the day, silly. He waited, trying to formulate a sentence. But Josephine kept going thankfully.

Her voice was small when she softly said, "I would not…object to being asked…Zanrye."

Her words…seemed to erase away the tension that he felt, inside himself or between them. And there was no hesitation or reservation that Leliana had feared. Josephine's invitation stunned him and set him into action. He couldn't realize he had stupidly stood there at all. And yet, as his boldness grew, his chest still felt tight. Not from aversion…but from something else.

"Josie," Zan smiled stupidly, stepping towards her. "Would you…have me? And…would you like to be my woman?" The eyes she looked at him with sent shivers down his spine that he did not react to. She seemed breathless herself and looked ready to swoon again.

"I would." Josephine said in a voice barely above a whisper, the voice filling his entire body with so much pleasure that his eyes stung again. He exhaled. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. A smile lit up his face as his feet carried him towards her. He grabbed her hands first and looked at them, eyes closed and mouth tight before he spoke.

"Ma'asha." He said in low voice. "Ma'lin." How long had it been since he'd used the terms?

"What…does that mean?" She asked and he realized he's spoken it aloud. He brought them another step closer, the distance between them slowly but surely evaporating.

"It means 'my woman.'" He said, smiling softly. "My lover." Her eyes seemed ready to cry but no tears came. He could tell, or maybe sense, his elven utterances… _inflamed her_.

"And to say…my man?" She asked, her voice small. Zanrye bent closer.

"Ma'isha." He said. She repeated the words back to him and he felt his smile widen and could feel his pulse in his neck. He chuckled. "You have no idea how happy I am right now…."

"I believe I can imagine…if it is anything comparable to my own." Josephine responded, her cheeks were bright with color. Zanrye looked to her eyes and she back at him, waiting and expecting. But also wanting. Zan continued his advance and Josie put a small hand on his chest in a steadying way. She was trembling. It took all his power for him not to.

When his hand caressed her face, he swooped in fast, almost as quickly as Josie moved at him. He felt her lips hit his and he did tremble. He didn't know what he expected, what he thought her lips would feel like (too big, too curled, too shemmy?) but the effect was dizzying. Goosebumps sprang on his neck at the contact and stirring rose in him farther south. It just felt nice.

He didn't stop. He trapped their mouths together, kisses meshing into an elongated one that continued on and on. Josie wrapped a hand around his waist and her fingers softly gripped the back of his shirt. _Bold with purpose…yet gentle as she does it…_.

Habit overtook him then and he fought to keep his hand, creeping down her waist and to her ass, to only rest there at the start of her woman curve. Her definition already began, and it felt taught as though she were bending her leg. Zanrye wanted to follow this rise all the way to the end, this abundance that was unlike elven women, who tended to have much subtler curves. But he did not, not yet. He held her there, held the kisses and the touches and the heat just there.

When he felt himself stiffen to the point of palpability, he slowed their lips. Josie reacted by breaking her lips away slowly, gazing at him. Zan held her in his arms, eyes never leaving hers as they finally opened. It was as if a warm wave had washed through them. And Zan saw her hazel-brown eyes, chestnut skin, dark hair, and brilliant, sweet smile and decided that she was incredible, and wonderful, and horrifically enchanting.

And worth everything.

"I…had…best get back to my office." Josie said finally, not making a move to leave his embrace —one he hoped felt as strong and warm to her as he believed it was. "Our absence has no doubt been noticed already."

"We couldn't have that." Zan said somewhat blandly, not able to stop staring at her. He was hypnotized by her. But he knew she needed to go. "I'll walk you there."

"Thank you." She said appreciatively, paused, and then finished with a soft, "darling."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

How did he even get here? He was in his office, a tray of bread, butter, and cheese before him, as well as some very delicate wine with only Dorian and Tiana with him. Spotted by Dorian and followed to greet Tiana waiting for him as he had summoned her in a letter, he was being mocked; for when Zanrye walked in, she'd asked where he'd been and he shrugged but when she asked, "with the missing ambassador" he had not been able to stop the embarrassed, stupid grin from coming to his face. That had all but confirmed it.

"I knew it." She told Dorian, smirking. "Ever since he was so worried about saying shem in front of her." She laughed loud. "Now this fucking rabbit knows he's said shem in front of Cullen and even you right?"

"Too many times." Dorian grinned. "It's rather hurtful, to be honest." He was mocking Zan, who continually shoved cheese in his mouth to avoid answering, ears bright red.

"I knew it then." She shook her head, sipping more. She sat on Zanrye's desk and Zan and Dorian sat on either side of it, the plate of food next to her ass. "Now you wouldn't catch one of those biggers in my pool but…everyone is different. No offense, Pavus."

"None taken." Dorian smirked. "I've never ventured to any pools myself, and all my… "branches" is it? All my branches thus far have been human."

"And you fucking hate them." Tiana said to Zanrye as he chewed, eyeing up her body to her face. She shook her head. "She certainly is docile though. Is that it? You like to bend the shems to your will this time around?" She nods approvingly. "I can almost see that fantasy…though I'd probably not be able to resist stabbing the shem once he was on his back."

"Creators Tiana…" Zanrye could not help his laughter.

"I must say…unraveling our ambassador." Dorian commended him. "Not a simple feat. Although you did give her that instrument—thing never ceases to make noise, carries all the way to the library. Don't you know such a place warrants silence?"

"Both of you," he said seriously, forcing his smile to die, "this isn't something that involves you…we're not even necessarily publicizing yet." He sighed.

"Are you ashamed?" Dorian asked him. Zanrye shook his head but his eyes betrayed him. Dorian's face was serious and he leaned forward now. "No. We'll have none of that."

"I said I'm not." Zanrye replied, defensive. Dorian scoffed.

"And you expect me to believe that?" He arched a brow, twisting up his mouth. "Me? Who can read shame from miles away?"

Zanrye did not meet his eyes, not wanting to go to this part of the conversation—knowing that he could not adequately or reasonably describe his intense shame but pride, as well as his intense pleasure but pain from their newly formed union.

"I don't want to talk about it," Zanrye said firmly.

"Nor did I want to talk to my father." Dorian said knowingly. "Yet you forced me to go."

"Convinced you." Zanrye corrected.

"Same difference." Dorian waved him off. "There's a time for drinking and—" he stopped Zan from shoving another piece of bread into his mouth—"eating ourselves out of it; and then there is a time to do other things—things that require more than just indulging in small pleasures."

"Sure." Zanrye put the bread down, glaring. "But why is now that time?"

"Because you've just pledged yourself to someone and have absolutely no idea how you're going to live with yourself." Dorian offered. Zanrye's face did not change but he heard the man.

"I don't agree with shem-elf lovin." Tiana said. "But…I don't think you can let this eat at you either." She gave him a reassuring look. "You're one of the most Dalish Dalish I've ever met, Zanrye. If anyone is more elfy than you are, it'd have to be a Keeper." She put her glass down. "And just because this has happened to you doesn't make you any less elfy. Or more shemmy."

"It makes you brave." Dorian said finally. Zanrye looked to the man and knew his reference. Zanrye felt a bit guilty by its introduction into the conversation. But he knew it was bound to come. Because the situations were not so different. But in a way, they must be. It was not simply about him liking a shem but taking steps to secure a relationship with one. He was taking himself from other elven maidens, and from any hopes to reproduce elven kids, wasn't he? How could Dorian be right when that was at stake? When his status as an elf carving a path for other elves was stained by his involving, or succumbing to, a shem woman?

But he was getting ahead of himself. Zanrye took a breath. He did not know what would happen with Josephine. Perhaps he would die in this attempt to stop Corypheus; perhaps she would find another besides him (he felt jealous and indignant as soon as the thought entered his mind but nevertheless), perhaps he could find another besides her (and probably die as Leliana would kill him).

This was not love, he told himself. Just very deep, deep, deep infatuation. The fact that he had these qualms showed it was not something like love.

"This isn't why I called either of you in here and we can talk about this later." Zanrye said and as Tiana opened her mouth, he said, "And we have more pressing concerns right now with the wardens and also what I asked you here for Tiana." He turned to Dorian. "Please…we can talk about this later? It's only just happened. And I'm not going to die today so, can you talk to me about it tomorrow? Please?"

The man was surly as he stood up ostentatiously and then marched from the room, muttering audibly about how Zanrye was a "brazen racist with no respect for wise men." As he left, Zanrye looked to the woman and inclined her to sit in the chair. She slid off the desk and obeyed, eating.

"I have a job for you." He told her. The feeling of the room was morphing to serious.

"Am I of the Inquisition now?" She smirked. "To be at your beck and call—accept your jobs?"

"Keeper Biloro has released you into my services if you want to act as my agent." He told her simply. Tiana looked surprised.

"I didn't know about this." She said quizzically. She didn't fully believe it yet either.

"I only just got confirmation from him after the Winter Palace." Zanrye said. "There was no time to brief you. As of now, you can work as my agent—it doesn't revoke your standing within your Clan. You are yet of Biloro."

"It depends on what you want me to do, Inquisitor." Tiana said lightly.

"I want you to be my silent agent, not telling anyone else our missions, not even Keeper." Zanrye said gravely. "This is an area that not even the rest of the Inquisition knows about." Her eyes widened as she took in what he was implying.

"It still depends on what it is." She said.

"If I reveal the situation to you and you refuse, I'd have to kill you." Zanrye said seriously. "And I like you a lot—you're the only elven comrade I can completely talk to here…. And that's why I can only entrust this to you."

He saw the deliberation on her face, her dying to know what the mission as but also not wanting to be trapped into an alliance with the Inquisition. But he assured her, it was with him. The inquisition knew nothing of this….

Finally, she sighed.

"You already know you have me." She rolled her eyes. "What is it then?"

"It's a covert infiltration operation." He said simply. "The elves in Orlais are going to have things change around them quickly in the next few weeks. And I want to ensure that things go in their favor without any slip-ups." He took out a sheet of parchment from his drawer and handed it to her. "Those are directions for your instructions. I couldn't keep them here, not when Josephine goes through nearly all of my papers." He looked into the elven woman's eyes and saw the steadfastness there, the quick mind, and the excitement. She would do well.

"Not even the ambassador knows huh?" She smirked slightly.

"Of course not." Zanrye stressed. "It's an elven matter—a private elven matter."

"And you're sending me…?" She pried.

"I'm sending you…to Orlais." He said, eyes on hers. "I'm sending you to be an "aid" to my ally Briala. But you're actually going to be an overseer, making sure she doesn't slip into her bad habits." When Tiana cocked an eyebrow, he explained, "she's a city elf—bed wenched herself to a shem." Tiana nodded, understanding. "I also want you to do a number of other things there but I will call for you to give reports in the same way that you'll get your instructions now—unless you're returning in between missions. Most of the things I want from you are not dangerous yet." Tiana's eyes widened ever so slightly. "But what I need from you will become dangerous as this business with Corypheus comes to a head."

"How dangerous?" She shot at him, her eyes revealing all: she was in but she was still wary. Zanrye sighed heavily and then looked at his desk before his eyes came back to hers.

"Let's just say…the time will come when someone is going to die." He said. "And no matter what happens, it will be the same person. But how many more deaths that need to happen is based on how the Inquisition fares…and what's best for the elves there."

Tiana was taking it in, her hardiness commendable as she did not seem aghast or even confounded by these revelations.

"All of these targets are shems, yeah?" She asked him after a time. Zanrye paused.

"Most." He said and she eyed him. "Our…ally's life for example…isn't necessarily guaranteed." When Tiana's eyes narrowed, he explained, "The instructions will explain everything that I can't talk about right now, it would take too long, but if she compromises the situation for elves in Orlais, or will block our progress—as she may end up doing because of her bed-wench problem —then our ally will not be an ally anymore. And the only way to get her out of her elven leader position would be to take her out."

"Oh." Tiana said and Zanrye knew then that she was the elf that he had been missing, the one who did not have to be his family but the one here—in this place, in this time since he joined the Inquisition—that would be his number one confidant and go-to for all things he knew he could talk to no one else about. She continued to nod understandingly. "It's one of those…fucking elves who'd rather put their cocks or holes before their people." She eyed him. "And why is she our ally over there at all if she has this problem?"

"Because she is the leader of the elven agents there." He said. "And a symbol. And the only thing we have as leverage as of now." He gave her a look. "If she doesn't measure up…we'll have to find her a replacement…." His eyes bored into Tiana who shook her head instantly.

"I'm not going to abandon my clan, Lavellan." She said to him firmly. "That's my rule in this."

"If not you, someone I'm sure you or I can rustle up." Zanrye shrugged. He closed his desk and then he stood up. "So. You will in fact do this for me, Tiana?"

"If I don't, I'll die." She smirked. When Zanrye shook his head but made his face serious once more, she stood as well and moved to him. "What do you think, Lavellan? We're friends…and we want the same things, Zan. Of course I'll do this…. Like I said, you already knew I would."

"Thank you." Zanrye said and truly he was grateful.

"You don't need to thank me, lethallin." She said kindly, her hand pushing at him gently. "We're in this together…and I know when I've encountered a calling." She gave him a look. "I knew it since I met you, playing hard to get but…" they both gave slight laughs, "I knew you belonged in my Clan." She was quieter. "My old one…."

"And you belong in mine." He told her. "Maybe it will be so one day."

"In the fade is the only way." She reminded him. "But before we go there…we have a chance to do what our clans would be proud of." She turned back to the table, picking up her glass. "Is that all you wanted?" She sat on the desk, leaning back. "Just want me for my services, that it?" She was flirting. He had to laugh big now and he actually came over to her and lifted her up off of his desk and onto her feet. "Well no need to be so manly your worship." She was laughing.

"Go read." He rolled his eyes. She gave him a final squeeze and left the office. As she walked, she began her read and also righted her mind, preparing herself, as Zanrye prepared himself, for the changes that were to come.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

RECAP

Zanrye and Josephine love scene basically. They are in fact a couple but only just. It's off to the Wardens now. But first, Zanrye makes Tiana his agent and spills the beans to Dorian. Gaspard still alive, remember. And Zanrye hatching many plots.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

-Had to explain toothpaste for some reason. Those are his leaves he's chewing.

-When Tiana calls him a knife ear, it is not to be mean (though it's not good). But it is similar to the use of augmented racial slurs between ethnic groups (most famously n***a used among black people to each other)

-Dalish have a Welsh-ish accent (some say Irish). The normal british voice is Ferelden. Most of all Dalish have this accent but there are variations (in the games too it seems). Also, all the Dalish elves we've met up till now have Welsh accents and so does Nishia/Mima (and so did Po)

-For those of you who didn't understand the Zanrye side-scheme: Tiana is going to be sent to Orlais to watch Briala and make sure what should happen does. She will do a number of other things. She will stay there for the most part and gain credit among the elves who love Briala as of now. She will also murder someone eventually, and if Briala starts to hinder the elves because she slips back into being used by Celene, Tiana is to murder Briala (who will believe that she is just an aid sent by Zanrye, to protect her and help her)

NONINQUISITION CAST

Tiana- (girl) Clan Biloro. Hunter. Now the agent of Zanrye's.

Mima- (girl) younger sister by 5 years


	16. Looking For Wardens, Witches, & Spirits

PRESENT

CRESTWOOD

The keep of Caer Bronch had been a victory. The draining of the lake and defeat of the wyffer had been victories. The rogues and bandits and enemies of the Inquisition had tried to defend against the force of Zanrye, Vivienne, Dorian, and Blackwall. Cassandra was off on her personal mission, seeking out the seekers. He'd left Solas to help Josephine with matters at Skyhold. Before he'd left, he'd given him no less than eight letters to send out to the areas by specifically designated ravens. He illuminated only need-to-know to Solas, though that need-to-know was more than anyone else knew, except Tiana—with whom he spoke in code.

Here, the dark night that blanketed the entirety of Crestwood was no more, the chill that it brought into all who set foot was no more. The undead stopped pouring out of the rift. And the village was safe. The sun seemed to have appeared out of nowhere once the large rift was sealed. But still it had come. What had once been the Storm Coast minus the rain and with ten-times the number of demons to fight was now the sunny collection of fields and thankful villagers now without a mayor whom Zanrye's people were already looking for. He felt bad for the mayor. But even still, he must be judged. And though ravaged, the town was yet growing.

The experience had been harrowing and repeatedly, Zanrye had wished he'd brought Solas as he encountered intelligent spirits that led him to the depths of the earth where the rift strummed his body. He regretted letting Cassandra loose when Blackwall could not perform as the lady seeker. The only two consistent folk were Dorian and Vivienne, though their presence was not enough to fill his team void. Two of his key players were missing.

But even still, victory was had. And as they came upon Stroud and Hawke in the cave where the rendezvous point was, he was a little gladder that he'd brought Blackwell along, if even just to have a common friend between them.

"So most of you disappear before I run into a darkspawn magister named Corypheus?" Zanrye began to grill him as soon as Stroud lowered his weapon. "It's not a coincidence."

"I'm afraid it is so." Stroud admitted and Zanrye was initially shocked. "Weisshaupt was happy to put this to rest when Hawke slayed Corypheus once." The Champion of Kirkwall sauntered to Stroud's side, eyeballing the Inquisitor as well as the Warden. "An archdemon can survive fatal wounds. I think that is what Corypheus has indeed done." He stops at a table and sighs. "Not long after…every warden in Orlais began to hear the calling."

At this, Hawke gave a gasp and her gaze was trained on Stroud. Zanrye didn't know what the Calling was and bemused. Her face was hard.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, accusation dripping in her voice.

"It was a Grey Warden matter." Stroud said. "I was bound by secrecy." His face was apologetic.

"What is the calling?" Zanrye demanded. "A ritual? What?"

"The Calling tells a warden that the Blight will soon claim him." Stroud turned to face Zanrye, his face dark. "There are dreams…then whispers…. The warden is to send his farewells and meet his death in combat."

"And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that." Hawke shook her head. "They think that they're dying! All of them!"

"This is likely because of Corypheus." Stroud said. "If we fall, who will stand against the next Blight? Who will see us through?"

"But he isn't controlling them?" Hawke asked, her face grave. "They're…being fooled?"

"So it isn't real?" Zanrye interjected. Stroud shook his head. "How can he make all of them hear this same calling?"

"We know very little about him Inquisitor." Stroud said, his middle-aged face still grieving.

"Well are you affected?" Zanrye's irritation was creeping into his voice. Hawke and Stroud and these wardens were supposed to be here to fix the problem, to help. And so far, they knew only a bit more than he did it seemed. He looked back to Blackwall, who had been silent this entire time. "And you?" The man slowly looked up, his tired eyes trained on the Inquisitor's face.

"Sadly yes." Stroud said. "It…lurks…in the shadows. The creature that makes the music know nothing of the Maker…but sometimes I almost understand it. We simply must uncover whatever corypheus has done and end it. This cannot stand." Zanrye did not even look at Stroud now, his eyes trained on the secretive, quiet man behind him. Why hadn't he talked to him more before now? More importantly, why had Blackwall not said anything.

"I don't fear the calling." Blackwell said lowly. "Worrying gives it power. Anything he does will only strengthen my resolve."

"That's not an answer." Zanrye said hardly. Blackwall stared and Zanrye suddenly got the urge to hit him. He exhaled and heard Dorian clear his throat, giving him an assuring look. He let his eyes go back to Stroud.

"The Wardens believe they're dying. They're not thinking clearly. This sounds like a recipe for disaster." He spoke these words without remorse.

"We are the only ones who can slay archdemons." Stroud said defensively. "We are the only ones who can stop the Blight; without us, it will consume the world." He was pacing. Zanrye didn't like it. He crossed his arms and the man stopped. "Warden Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual…to stop the Blight forever." He sighed. "When I protested the plan as madness…my comrades turned on me." He gestured the map. "The Grey Wardens are now gathering in the Western Approach." He walked past them. "In an ancient tevinter ritual tower is where you shall meet me."

Zanrye did not want to let him go but he was blocked by Hawke and he immediately followed her to the side. He was exasperated.

"So what they're saying is the Wardens may or may not be controlled by the fucking demon we're trying to get rid of!?" He spat. "Help me out Hawke!"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Hawke said simply. "But all we really need to know at this point is where they are and if there's anything we can do to stop these callings and get them back where they need to be—helping stop that demon once and for all." She sighed. "This time for sure."

"And will it be a problem if they are in fact being controlled?" He asked. Her green eyes were sharp on his own.

"Then they will be dealt with accordingly." She said simply. "But until we know, it's best not to act rashly…Your Worship." Her attitude was entering her words. Zanrye backed off. He respected what Hawke had done for the Inquisition, certainly for Kirkwall and against Corypheus. If anyone knew what was at stake, it was her. He nodded and moved to his own group. He did not even bother to look to Blackwall before he turned his stare on Dorian.

"I know this may be tough—if there's any blood magic involved." He said, his voice soft. "But I want you to be at my side in the Approach." Dorian's smirk was almost too much.

"You think I'd let you run off to play with high caliber mages without me?" He crossed his arms. "I'd likely never see you again. Or the next time I did, you'd be in a cushioned box with chantry markings all over it while we all mourn your passing."

"I take it you're down then." Zanrye shook his head and the man rambled on. Zanrye led them all back to the village so they could begin their ride. He sighed, knowing that the time was near. He had a powerful sense of foreboding. They would indeed encounter the Grey Wardens. And he knew, he just knew, it would not be pleasant.

* * *

20 YEARS EALIER

ORLAIS

"Well they believe it." Po shrugged at Nishia and Zanrye as they gathered around for the story. Babysitting was still taking place.

"But why wasn't anything said if the Hero wasn't a human?" Nishia crossed her arms.

"Because when have they ever told of an elf being of use to the world?" Po glanced at her. She was quiet at that point well taken. He continued, "But some say that the great Hero was in fact an elf, a city elf from Ferelden who lived in an alienage and was conscripted after fighting off the guards who wanted to come and take away his sister—or cousin."

"But how was he able to do that?" Zanrye was quizzical. "If he lived in the alienage?"

"He was taken in by the Wardens to escape death." Po said knowingly. "He traveled with them and ended up being the greatest hero of all time, dying to end the Blight."

"But if—"

"Remember the wolf story?" Po asked. Zan nodded. "That was the Warden. Or so they say."

"What was his name?" Nishia asked, her intrigue getting the best of her.

"No one knows for sure." Po shrugged. "He was mostly referred to as Warden from that point on, or the Hero of Ferelden once Wardens weren't outlaws anymore."

"And why were they outlaws?" Zanrye asked. "Because Loghain was evil?" He had heard this story before and each time, all he could think was how stupid and evil Loghain was, betraying his own people and making a grab for power. But Nishia disagreed. As did Po.

"He wasn't evil but more unwilling to take a chance." Nishia offered. Po nodded.

"You're right about something finally." He teased and she rolled her eyes. "It was more that… the famous teryn didn't help the Wardens and the Ferelden King win the battle and that would make his daughter sole queen. But I think he was more-so scared of the Blight than anything."

"And Darkspawn are scary enough." Nishia said. "Even the thought of them. Besides, the Fereldens thought the Orlesians were in cahoots with the Wardens and vice versa."

"The little historian speaks the truth." Po tried to ruffle Nishia's hair and she jerked away, glaring. "The Wardens are…free-lancers. They don't choose nations. They even have Dalish Wardens. We have a treaty with them to take up arms against Darkspawn Rye."

"Why would we care?" Zanrye was utterly confused now as his friends kept plowing him with history and information that did not answer his question in full.

"Because some things are bigger than squabbles between us and humans." Nishia said simply. Zanrye just looked at her with his young but quickly aging eyes. Po nodded in agreement.

"I have seen a Darkspawn." He said a bit more quietly. "Worse thing I ever saw in my life. It was…odd. Ugly…like the face of death." He sighed. "Elvhenan are important, Rye. Remember that. But when the Blights come…" he shakes his head. "When the Blights come, all that matters is saving the lives of those who remain. Because would you rather have living humans to deal with or demonic, possessed, harder to kill ones? Would you rather ally with them for a time or risk losing everyone to the curse?"

Zanrye did not have an answer though he knew the right one. A shiver went through him though no wind was blowing. Nishia put a soft hand on his shoulder, her hands firm but gentle enough to be affectionate.

"Pray to the Creators you never see a Darkspawn, Rye." Po said softly. "But if you ever do… then you'll understand why you have to care about the Blight. And the Wardens—elf or human or otherwise. A true Dalish will know."

* * *

PRESENT

WESTERN APPROACH

"Now bind it just as I showed you." Magister Erimond commanded the Warden, who reached out his hand and bound the summoned rage demon before his eyes became tinged with red by Erminond's doing and then he moved no more. A slave.

"That's two magisters and a league of venatori." Zanrye murmured. "I'm starting to believe Tevinter may be the problem."

Erimond turned his gaze upon the party coming towards him. Stroud and Hawke flanked Zanrye, Dorian and Vivienne not too far behind either. He could feel everyone's tension, surrounded by raw magic and rage demons. The black haired, pale faced magister smirked.

"What an unexpected pleasure, Inquisitor." He leered. "Lorde Livius Erimond of Vyrantium at your service." His bow had his face towards the floor, exposing his neck, unafraid of them. He eyed Stroud. "And you are the one Clarel let slip." He sighed. "And now you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Why don't we see how that goes?"

"I'm very tired of Tevinter mages coming down here." Zanrye said, eyes on fire. "I've killed worse foes in the past "Lord Erimond." If I have to kill a few Warden mages, so be it."

"You may have to, yes." Erimond seemed absolutely delighted at the prospect. He looked down. "Wardens! Hands…up."

Zanrye watched in complete shock as the Wardens all raised their hands in unison. Dread filled his stomach as he saw this. Oh no…. Stroud looked ready to cry and Hawke had a look of disgust and near shame. Vivienne looked disapproving. Dorian seemed ready to kill.

"Corypheus has their minds." Zanrye said, sighing before Stroud could interject.

"They did this to themselves." Erimond said. "The Calling had the Wardens looking anywhere for help. And they found it. My Master put the calling in their heads, as I'm sure you know by now. So we in the venatori were well prepared."

"You convinced them to give their minds?" Zanrye asked.

"In a way." Erimond said. "Raise a demon army, go to the deep roads, kill the old gods before they woke." Zanrye's eyes narrowed. Things just went from bad to worse.

"Was wondering when the demon army was going to show up." Dorian spat from behind him.

"Once the rest of the wardens complete the ritual, they will take over all of Thedas." Erimond said. "There's really nothing you can do to stop us."

"Why kill the old gods?" Zanrye asked.

"The Blights begin when an old god is found and corrupted into an archdemon." Vivienne said softly. "If they dispose of them early on…there is no longer a problem."

"And they did it of their own free will." Dorian said darkly.

"Fear is a powerful motivator." Zanrye said slowly.

"Cowardice then." Dorian replied, his face continuing to close. Zanrye rose a hand to silence them as the magister began to raise his arms once more. He didn't want a surprise attack.

"And what do you get out of this if the Blight destroys everything, Lord?" He asked. "Are you stupid enough to think the Blight won't consume you?" The man laughed in his face.

"The Blight is a tool, little elf." He said. "It's not unstoppable or uncontrollable. Just a tool. While the Elder One rules in the golden city, the venatori will be god-kings."

Zanrye's jaw worked and he tried to find words. Stroud was reaching to him with a hand and he waved the man off and let the statement come, "Let the Wardens go."

"Oh that would do no good, Inquisitor." Erimond laughed. "But it's touching you want—"

"Do you think you can stand against me with just demons and a fade rift?" Zanrye overtalked him, hand taught and ready to grab his greatsword as the mages began to move. "Did Corypheus not mention what I did to the breach?"

"Oh he did." Erimond said, his face now a glare. "He also noted what he did to you at Haven."

Suddenly, his hand reached out and pain and shaking took over Zanrye's hand, sending him doubling over in pain. He recognized this as the pain from Haven, though to a…lesser…degree. But still high enough to send him reeling. Erimond's voice rang out around him and his team swiftly moved in a protective polygon. He heard the man speaking, words becoming clearer and clearer as the red turned to green. The mark was gaining power. He flinched instinctively as pain faded and the familiar buzzing took over. Slowly, he gathered breath.

"Mark you bear…stole from my master…has to find other ways to enter the fade…When I—"

Zanrye's mark came surging to life and he attacked the magister with flourish, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. That was all it took to send him running and start the demons into action. Zanrye fell back, clearing his head for a time as Dorian dispelled the magic and Vivienne shielded him. Hawke was instantly in action and handled a greatsword in a way Zanrye had to be awed by. Her finesse spoke of defensive measures even when on the offensive. She struck at the rage demon with no fear, even without a mark and with a fading shield. Her blade sank into the demon and came before she dodged a blast from the mage.

Zanrye sprang to life and between the five of them, the mages and demons were taken care of in minutes. Blood now colored the stones and a note was found on two of the bodies. Zanrye let Hawke and Stroud go to retrieve it, his mind working fast. He barely heard Stroud before Hawke got his attention.

"Through the ritual, they are slaves to Corypheus." Stroud said, his hands balled into fists.

"And the warriors?" She asked, her throat twitching. When no response came, she sighed. "Of course…sacrificed in the rituals…." She took a deep breath. "What a waste."

"Who looks at this and thinks it's a good idea?" Zanrye demanded of them, wiping blood from his chin.

"The fearful and foolish." Hawke said bluntly, her eyes toward Stroud.

"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons." He said softly but firmly.

"All blood mages do." Hawke said and was surprised to find that Dorian had uttered the same. The two stared at each other and then she sighed, continuing. "Everyone has a story they tell themselves, to justify a bad decision. It never matters."

"Your Worship." Shroud chose to ignore Hawke. "I…believe I know where the Wardens may be. There's an abandoned fortress…in the direction he fled…I believe he's going to Adamant."

Zanrye came into the man's face—the Warden Commander who was supposed to be one of the famed, honorable paragons of every race.

"I want them." He said firmly. "We're NOT going to let Corypheus take hold of a demon army."

"I can go with Stroud to scout Adamant and make sure the Wardens are gathering there." Hawke said softly. Her green eyes came to Zanrye's. "We'll meet you at Skyhold when we can confirm it. I will meet you then."

Her hand came up loosely to grab his shoulder for a brief moment and then she and Stroud were walking away, without Zanrye's verbal approval but he knew that Hawke knew he'd agree. He trusted her—knew he shouldn't—but did. He knew they'd find the information together. Stroud heard the Calling and Hawke wanted Corypheus almost more than Zanrye did.

"Are we heading back to Skyhold now?" Vivienne asked him lightly.

"Yes." Zanrye said, looking at his hand. "Go back and wait for Hawke."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Home was abuzz with activity but Zanrye barely got to see any of it. He watched as people went by with colossal-sized planks and odd-looking rolls of what must be drapery. Still others took along plants to be grown within the nursery that had been set up in the garden—beside the chantry figures that Zanrye couldn't deny being there. This was for the "Andraste Herald" after all. They needed inspiration in order to continue to support the Inquisition.

He made his way there now, trying to take a detour so that he wouldn't be bombarded by all the hubbub. He needed to get to Solas, make sure everything went according to plan. Then he needed to send out another letter as well.

The interior gardens were just as packed he saw with another marble statuette of some exalted chantry figures being set up in the prayer room. Zanrye waited for it to pass and his eyes fell upon Morrigan. He hadn't been able to speak with her before he left to Crestwood, let alone find her. He had not seen Morrigan since the ball, which was now almost a week behind them. But now he had. She stood beneath the archway where she seemed to be emerging nearly from the fade itself. But before he even got within her range, a boy appeared before his very eyes, in front of him. Zanrye stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the red-headed child before him.

"You're the Inquisitor." The boy said. "Mother didn't say you were an elf."

Zanrye couldn't respond for a moment. He blinked at the boy before a small smile crept onto his face.

"The ears gave me away didn't they?" He asked the boy who shook his head demurely.

"No, your blood." He said. "It's very old. I saw it right away."

Zanrye gaped at him for no less than ten seconds before Morrigan appeared at their side to police her child.

"Kieran, are you bothering the Inquisitor?" She asked him.

"No." The boy assured her with an accent that was a much slower drawl of her own. "Did you see what's on his hand?" He smiled as he said this.

"It is time to return to your studies, little man." She insisted. He grumbled but she shooed him. Zanrye looked to her for explanation.

"My son." She smirked. "Never where you expect him to be."

"I…didn't know you had a son, Morrigan." Zanrye said to her.

"Why would you?" She asked lightly. "I go to great lengths so that my reputation will not affect him in any way." They begin to walk past more lumbering building material. "He is a curious boy, but seldom a troublesome one. He goes where I go."

"And is his father going to be joining us?" Zanrye asked her. Morrigan shook her head without bitterness or remorse.

"I have raised Kieran on my own for quite some time now." She said. "As was my preference from the start." She paused for a brief moment. "The most you may receive of him are letters." She smiles now. "Fear not Inquisitor. It is but the two of us. Your castle is large."

"He…" Zanrye tried to think of a word for the boy who spoke with words that did not match the youth of his voice, "seems like a find young man. You're probably very proud."

"But not the sort that someone might expect a woman like me to raise?" Morrigan asked.

"No." Zanrye shook his head and realized he meant it. "I…don't picture you as a mother, but I don't picture you as being incapable of being one."

"No son of mind would be raised in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world. His future will be difficult enough without my adding to his burden." She spoke of loss now but moved quickly. "You have turned Skyhold…home to the desperate and the foolish…into what it is now. Tis remarkable, Inquisitor."

"You know a lot about this place?" He asked her.

"It was coveted by the ancient elves." She smiled at him. "They called it—"

"Tara'silan." Zanrye spoke. She eyed him. "Solas told me."

"Hm." She nodded. "And it was abandoned then, and again by the humans who found it, laying as nothing until your arrival."

"We were lucky to have found it." Zanrye said.

"Fate…is often mistaken for luck." Morrigan smiled small, wisely. And Zanrye again had the feeling of being drawn to her. She knew…or felt…or could perceive what others could not. "I appreciate your accepting my aid even knowing as little of me as you do. I will do my best to help you in your efforts."

"I will appreciate whatever you can give us." He said to her. "I think I made one of the best choices when I accepted your help."

Solas's appearance came at a bad time but was critical. Zanrye spotted the man, walking with a teacup and he apologized to Morrigan and ran off to his friend. The grimace almost made Zanrye laugh if matters weren't so important.

"Something wrong with your tea, da'fen?" He asked him, using the nickname he gave the man.

"It is tea. I detest it." Solas replied, glaring. Zanrye was bewildered.

"Then why drink it?" He asked dubiously.

"I need to shake the dreams from my mind," he said ominously. "But I may also need a favor."

"Anything." Zanrye said without hesitation. Solas lingered over this statement for only a moment before he began the pacing, leading Zanrye further outside the gardens.

"One of my oldest friends is captured by a mage, forced into slavery." He said, the tension seeping out of him. Zanrye had never seen him so phased. "I heard the cry for help as I slept."

"If they were captured, how did he…she…?" Zanrye was having a hard time piecing things together from what Solas was giving him.

"It." Solas replied bluntly. Zanrey just stared. "My friend is the spirit of wisdom."

There was a silence that stretched between them. Zanrye felt his smirk creep onto his face before he could stop himself and this, alongside his dumbfounded eyes, made Solas's glare sharper.

"It was summoned against its will and wants help to return to the fade." Solas said curtly as Zanrye struggled to keep his face straight.

"And…why doesn't this spirit want to be a part of our world?" He asked.

"Some do, just like some Orlesians want to go to Rivain!" Solas threw his hands up so suddenly that Zanrye blinked and nearly flinched. "But not all want to go to Rivain!"

"Okay, Solas." Zanrye said, hands up in defense. "Any friend of yours…"

The man's arms were around him before Zanrye could even blink. Solas crushed him into a hug that told of his anger and his confusion at his friend's suffering.

"Thank you." He said lightly.

"Anything, lethallin." Zanrye assured him as the man released him. "You just mark it and we'll head out." He remembered. "But also, the letters…."

"All sent." Solas said absent-mindedly. He narrowed in for a second. "I hope you know what you're doing, da'len."

"I do." Zanrye said. He clapped the man's shoulder. "We both do. Now hurry up so we can find this friend of yours before something worse happens to…it."

* * *

19 YEARS EARLIER

ORLAIS

"Not this again." Dosan rolled his eyes at Lana. He, Lana, Zanrye, and Nishia were all out tilling the land near the campsite that had been ravaged by fire from sorrowful mages in their camp.

"All I'm saying is that if the Warden was an elf, she would have died." Lana insisted.

"Or he." Zanrye said.

"Or he." Lana replied.

"How do we know the Warden had to die?" Dosan, Zanrye's fairweather friend at that time—soon to be his trader friend—protested. "The King Alistair was a Warden and he didn't die."

"But if he didn't, it would have to be at the sacrifice of someone else." Lana said.

"We can't know that for sure." Dosan shook his head, shoveling dirt away from a place where he dropped in a seed. "Think about it: Blights have ended before—and even though the demons are hard to kill, they don't have to kill the Warden."

"But they probably did. It's a miracle every time one has ended." Lana was getting irate now. "Keeper told me these things!"

"And I'm not saying Keeper is wrong." Dosan shrugged. "But it's still not truly decided if the Hero of Ferelden died or not."

"We can't know." Nishia said. "Not unless we ask the King of Ferelden—and no one will do that." She eyed them all. "The importance was what the Hero did."

"But if the hero were alive!" Dosan urged. "And was an elf?" He exhaled happily. "Do you know what that would mean?"

"That an elf stopped the Blight." Nishia shrugged. "Other elves helped in stopping the Blight. It was a Thedas ordeal, not just that of one person or group of people."

"Right, right." Dosan admitted. "But weren't the Wardens getting killed too? Po says they were being hunted and killed and the Hero still managed to get the world together to fight the Blight once and for all."

"Po says a lot of things." Nishia said. Zanrye chortled.

"I still think she—or he—died." Lana said.

"Even if he didn't," Zanrye finally piped up, "what are the chances that we'd ever meet him?" There was nothing to follow that and Zanrye continued, "And besides, like Nishia says, we can't ever know for sure."

"Myth." Dosan shook his head. "Another way for shems to not give us credit for what we did."

* * *

PRESENT

EXALTED PLAINS

Solas and Zanrye went alone, leaving Skyhold in the tumult it was in. Zanrye and he walked along the plains, with Solas leading them towards his friend, who they found in a clearing, surrounded indeed by mages….

The Pride demon behemoth was leering but facing the ground as the mages restrained it. Solas gave a sharp inhale and Zanrye felt sorrow for his friend as he looked on. The growl from Solas was inhuman, unelven, and made Zanrye bite his lip. They had turned the spirit into a demon. A fighting demon. Solas's pain sent near tangibles ripples through the atmosphere.

The slow sound of grass moving had Zanrye draw his weapon. Solas merely stared with disgust as the mage slowly came before them, looking hopeful.

"You're a mage!" He said relieved. "Not bandits. Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted fighting the demon."

"You summoned that demon!" Solas growled. "Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time! You made it kill! You twisted it!"

"I understand it's confusing to someone who hasn't studied demons." The mage said, attempting to placate him, "but after you help us—"

"We are not here to help you." The statement from Solas came with so much venom that Zanrye had to look at his friend to make sure he hadn't turned into a bear, a demon, a god. His eyes locked onto Zanrye who swallowed, trying to keep things under control.

"I…wouldn't presume to more than my friend here if I were you." Zanrye told him blandly.

"I was a foremost expert in Kirkwall's Circle!" The man insisted.

"Shut. Up." Solas said, eyes never losing the gleam of wrath within them. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits." The man looked down. "You bound it to obedience then commanded it to kill." He paced and looked to Zanrye. "No binding circle, no more bond, no more demon. Break it."

"That's the only thing keeping it from killing us!" The man cried. These sounds grated on Zanrye's inner mind and he bristled, Solas's anger and pain fueling him into action. He was becoming angry himself—and violent.

"Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!" The man begged Zanrye, who still hadn't spoken, face closed off.

"Inquisitor, please!" Solas begged him. His desperate voiced set Zanrye to action.

"I'll do everything I can." He said softly, his eyes turning to the man as he spoke. "You know that… da'fen."

"Thank you…." Solas spoke in a hushed voice then his body sprang to life and the two of them charged at the circle. The man was muttering now and grieving. He was frightened. He should be. Mages who thought they knew it all these days.

Zanrye went straight for the restraints, not even bothering with the demon, leaving that to Solas to shield and stun it into submission. He pounded against the stone, ruining the mages' hard work. He had never fought to free a demon before and he almost found the situation funny had it not been for the intensity of the situation. When the final one broke, the Pride demon surged and let forth light by which a woman's figure came. Solas dropped to a crouch and spoke to her in a dialect that Zanrye could mostly decipher.

 **"** **I'm sorry" "I'm me again"** He listened in as the woman became forlorn and spoke of… **death** and of **enduring**. Zanrye watched his friends eyes well with hateful tears and he looked away. Solas' friend…one of his only friends…captured, tortured, and in need of destruction.

"Dareth shiral." Solas spoke. Zanrye was sad but spoke up.

"I know…what it said." Zanrye said slowly. "You did help it, Solas…. You did all you could."

"Now…I must endure." Solas pinched his eyes and brushed away tears before he opened them again, ablaze with the lust for vengeance.

"Let me know." Zanrye said, offering his services.

"You have." Solas said. "I won't forget it." His eyes were deadly. "All that remains now is them."

"We…we thank you." The mage started but Solas was advancing.

"You tortured and killed my friend." He said in a strangled voice. The man was gibbering, realization coming to him that Solas meant to take his life and all of their lives. He was defenseless. He was afraid. Zanrye just watched and waited for Solas to rip them apart with pure magic, right before him, their screams short-lived and corpses on fire.

"Damn them all." Solas said, grimacing. He sighed. Zanrye slowly approached him and laid a soft hand on her shoulder, squeezing. Solas put his own hand over it and let it stand, inhaling deep before he removed Zanrye's hand. "I need some time alone. I will meet you at Skyhold."

"Solas—" Zanrye frowned, brow furrowing, reaching out but Solas stopped him.

"I just need some time." He said painfully. "Just some time."

And with that, he set out along the plains and left Zanrye to watch him go, unable to do anything to help.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Zanrye entered the ever-alive Skyhold with heavy feet, the week having been nothing but trial after trial. It was coming. Things were coming. And Solas hadn't come back yet and evening was approaching. Zanrye barely saw the new banners as he climbed the stairs. They were new, seemingly from Ferelden. A gift? Maybe. He continued into the main foyer and saw many other changes that Vivienne and Josephine both rounded upon him as soon as they spotted him from where they were helping to oversee things.

"Inquisitor. We have been waiting all evening. We heard you came earlier but left just as quickly as you came." Vivienne said, shaking her head. "We've just received some gifts and other things from…allies. The Orlesians have sent us many new decorations for the foyer."

"Things of great value and of good taste as well." Josephine said to him. "We have also come to understand that the riches beneath the grounds where you slayed the dragons in the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains have been sent to Skyhold as well. Skulls and the like. They will arrive by midnight."

Zanrye kept walked with the two of them at his side. He said nothing but stared at the decorum. The wall hangings were truly nice, the inquisition symbols. Some Andrastian. He suddenly envisions some being Dalish…for Andruil perhaps. And Jun.

The throne was also undergoing customizations, but this time correctly. He saw a longer seat with two hallas on either side and a bow (symbol of andrui) above the chair, wood vines growing out of the bottom.

"Someone's attempted to make a Dalish throne for me." He said, heading west towards his room.

"That would be the gifts from the Biloro clan." Josephine said. Zanrye had to smile. Of course they would make Andruil the prominent figure.

"It's nice." He said lightly. "I'll take a look at all of this tomorrow." He turned to her. "But can you inform me if Solas enters the grounds—if you get word he has?"

"Oh—um." She stopped and looked to Vivienne.

"Your room is also undergoing renovation." Vivienne said.

"What!?" Zanrye asked, eyes big.

"Well you can't expect the entire castle to be upgraded but the Inquisitor's lodging to be left out now can you?" She said haughtily. "You'll be thankful for it."

"Is my bed there?" He asked, his voice now weary.

"It…is…of sorts." Josephine said apologetically and Zanrye groaned.

"We have servants ready to move out that which you do not want." She assured him. "If you wish to make your selection now, by all means. Vivienne, if you could."

"Of course." Vivienne nodded and went off to fetch them. Zanrye looked to Josie.

"So do I have a bed or not?" He asked, opening the door and climbing the stairs.

"You have a new one." She replied. Zanrye figured as much. He climbed the steps to his spacious room and saw his desk remodeled, a new sofa in his room, more sleek and soft than the old one by the looks of it, a wider closer area, and new glass. No less than 4 beds were present. Zanrye shook his head, trying to move between them. They each were nice but his old one was nowhere to be found.

"And whose idea was this?" He asked Josephine. "Without making sure I'd be home to pick my bed in a timely fashion?"

"This has been planned for weeks, darling." Josephine said. "You simply refused to acknowledge it in all the ravens I sent you."

"Ah yes." Zanrye said sarcastically. "Right."

He looked around to the different beds. Some were white, some were tall, some were of weird making. All were much bigger than his small twin had been. He at least appreciated that. He looked around and could identity some from Orlais almost immediately.

"Are these gifts too?" He asked.

"No." Josephine said. "Some things we are buying, which we have liberty to as we have a stable bank after the Oasis." He nodded, running his hand along one of their frames.

"Where does this one come from?" He asked.

"That is one modeled in Orzammar." She said, coming beside him. "It is quite nice, I think. Used by many nobles. However, the dwarven make has been known to be a bit rigid compared to others. Probably because of the nature of their wood."

"And that one?" He pointed to the large, half canopy bed with side like the Orzammar bed.

"Orlais obviously." Josephine said.

"It's nice." He said. "Like the other one but nicer color."

"This is the one with full canopy, unlike the old model." Josephine said. "And it is without the obstruction at the end and the steps. I thought this model was to your taste and useful since you've nothing to block morning light—though you find ways to slumber without curtains now."

"I guess." Zanrye grinned. He looked at the bed and decided he really did like it. It was fancy but not so gaudy as what was usually expected of Orlais. And though he had come to enjoy the vibrant and bright and big in his lifetime, he wasn't one for anything too garish.

He looked to Josephine and to the bed and then looked around.

"I think I like this one." He said off-handedly. "What do you think?"

"I believe any of these would meet your requirements." She said truthfully.

"And yours?" He asked, not helping the small, mischievous smile from coming to his face. Her expression was confused and then it was priceless. She cleared her throat.

"I think any would do." She said, looking away. "Though I cannot imagine I would intrude into your room and make use of it."

"I'm sure any would do." He said, ignoring her last statement. "But I want to know which is your favorite." He came around to her end of the bed and looked at her, beside her. She was blushing and rolled her eyes at his tactics.

"These are not my beds." She said.

"You can't have a favorite bed for me?" He asked. She sighed, yielding to his relentlessness. She gestured to the one he also liked, the one before them.

"I would say this one." She said. He looked at it and then slowly sat. It was comfy.

"I think so too." He grinned up at her. "Try it for yourself."

"You are being silly." She said.

"I'm not." His hand came to touch her wrist and take hold of her hand gently. She giggled despite herself and let him guide her to sit. She looked up at him through her lashes and he kissed her. It'd been a while since they'd decided to officially date, act on this attraction. Then he'd had to rush to Crestwood immediately after. This was their second kiss on the mouth.

"It feels fine." She said softly, smiling at him. He liked when she smiled at him, liked nearly everything she did to him.

"You haven't tried it, still, ma'fenor." He smirked, using his nickname for her, meaning his precious. When she eyed him, he slipped his hand beneath her legs and moved her entire body back to the center of the bed. Her face was shocked and she scrambled to a sitting position where she fell to her back. Zanrye leaned back on the bed, horizontally across it and grinned at her.

"Zan!" She swatted at him, perpendicular to him. He took her hands in his, stopping it.

"Does it feel alright?" He asked her, a bit cheeky.

"You are almost too much sometimes." She shook her head at him. He gazed up at her and just smiled. She did not move, waiting for a response but he didn't give one. He held onto her hands and then kissed each of them in turn. They were soft, like the bed. Like his heart was for her. She really was precious to him. His strong-backed, strong-willed precious. He sighed contentedly, looking towards the ceiling now, her hands still in his. New castle, new bed, and soon…new allies? What was he going to do with the Wardens? They were dangerous, yes. There was no doubt. But this had only been a few. Surely not all could fall to Corypheus. If they could just make it to Adamant in time. If Hawke could return.

Josephine filled his vision, her face hovering over his. He realizing she'd come to bend over him and he felt his throat tighten and a warm feeling wash over him. He smiled up serenely at her.

"You're troubled, darling?" She asked him. He shook his head.

"Just thinking." He said, one hand still on one of hers, twiddling the fingers. She smiled down at him, an unreadable expression on her face. But Zanrye could sense what it was. _She wants you_.

Not in this bed, with clothes all gone and bodies pressing into each other. But just to be here. Together. She wanted that. Zanrye thought that maybe she….

"I…missed you." She admitted, as if reading his mind. Zanrye gazed up at her for a time before he kissed the hand he still held.

"I missed you too." He said, realizing as he said it that he had missed her.

That made her smile and before long he saw her incline to press her lips to his. Warm, fleshy, human lips. Soft lips. Antivan lips.

He let her be the aggressor, let her take her own desires. He enjoyed it all the same. He kissed her back, liking it—too much, he knew but that thought was in the back of his mind.

She broke from him but kept their lips touching in a strangely intimate way. She spoke.

"Would you care to…do something soon?" She asked him. "Anything."

Odd question. Right question. He spoke, mouth brushing hers as she had not moved.

"Yes." He said simply. "I heard…from Vivienne…there's to be theater in Orlais…."

"And a carnival." Josephine said. "For a picnic perhaps…." He reached up and felt her hair.

"Anything you want." He said. She smiled at him and then pressed her lips to his again, returning to him more of the warm feelings. So many of them, from so little. The light, feathery touches between them, feeling the need to put her hand in his and rejoicing when one of her hands rested on his chest to steady her as she bent over him.

 _She's worth everything_

So many times he thought that, but was unsure of what that actually meant. All he knew was that that truth resonated with him. The words were too right to be anything but truth.

She pulled back, staring down at him, their hands massaging each other's like that of stage actors but with real genuineness when the voice spoke.

"The servants are coming up." Vivienne said, the smirk apparent in her voice. Josephine shot to a sitting position and Zanrye turned to stare at her over his shoulder, scrambling to his feet. Vivienne's face was as refined as usual but there was a knowing there.

Zanrye's heart pumped unsteadily. It was not as drastic as maybe it once would have been but Vivienne was not his most trusted. She was discrete but….

 _First Dorian, now her._ He was afraid the people who knew was growing—rapidly. Soon, all would know. And then what? What would happen? What harm? Was there any benefit?

He knew he wanted this secret still—but for some reason could not pinpoint why exactly. Not now anyway, with soldiers coming up and Josephine stepping off the bed.

"Thank you." Zanrye didn't look at Vivienne. The woman just gave a noise to indicate she'd heard him and then left the two of them to the guards.

"Um, we w—I mean I, I want this one, thank you." Zanrye said to them about the bed before him. "You can—you can just take the others away."

Josephine left him, her hand softly touching him before she did. They locked eyes before she descended the stairs and Zanrye couldn't help but give her a soft expression before she left.

* * *

 _ **HELPFUL INFO**_

RECAP

Zanrye took Crestwood and now knows about the plans for the Wardens. And he doesn't know how to feel about them. He and Solas continue to grow and Morrigan reveals her son. That and he and Josephine slip to Vivienne. And make date plans. And Zan is hatching plots.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

-Some elven from here and continuing on will be taken from the lexicon of fenxshiral Link: /series/229061

-Zanrye's plans: remember that Tiana is with Celene, Briala is debated, his has spies, he is friends with Biloro, and he is sending out letters.

NONINQUISITION CAST

Dosan- (boy) Friend of Zanrye's. Clanmate.


	17. Skyhold's Throne

ORLAIS (WINTER PALACE)

Zanrye sat with Celene and Marquise Briala, talking over tea and scones served to them by elves. He listened to their plans for giving support to the Inquisition and their plans to slowly alleviate the issues of money within the alienages, to better ready elves for livelihood and interaction with the outside world.

Zanrye listened, and nodded, and smiled. And then, when Celene was regrettably detained, he took Briala to the side.

"Everything is in place." She said to him. "Tiana is very helpful. My own allies took kindly to her immediately. And her operating more within the shadows allows me to fully explore this newer role as Marquise."

"That was the idea." Zanrye said. "I hand-picked her to best suit your needs. I wanted to make sure she was doing so."

"She is."

"And make sure she always understands her tasks." Zanrye said, voice tinted with warning. "She has been loyal to me thus far, but I know she can be overt. Make sure she knows that we are always being watched—you watching her as well."

"I keep all my soldiers at peak efficiency, Inquisitor Lavellan." Briala assured him. "While she is under my command, she will be no different." She smiled at him. "You worry much."

"There is a lot at stake, depending on us." He said to her truthfully. "I don't want to fail."

"We won't." She assured him, her eyes full of determination. She did not believe they would. And Zanrye appreciated her for it. There may be no need to have her eliminated after all.

Maybe.

"I have to get back to Skyhold and see to Gaspard." He told her. "I still don't know what exactly to do with him."

"With Celene alive, there isn't much reason to keep him around," Briala offered advice. "It only stirs up discontent and makes those still loyal to him a threat to Celene and us, as we now depend on her and myself since I have been venerated by her."

"I haven't made up my mind." Zanrye said. "But I'll take your advice to heart. It nothing can be done, then yes, I'll dispose of him."

"I would gladly help." Briala said. Zanrye smiled at him.

"I bet you would." He chuckled. "But no…I have my own agents who can do that—out of Orlais territory. There's already enough blood." He began to walk when Briala spoke after him.

"Thank you." She said. "For trusting me." Zanrye stopped and slowly turned. He remained calm though his instincts screamed for him to be wary of what she may know. He cocked his head and she revealed what she meant, "It must be hard—maintaining your reputation. But I will never exploit you for your heart…unless it's for the good of our people of course." She said the last bit with a smile and he realized she meant when she'd seen him and Josephine at the palace and he'd not flinched. He now gave her a piercing stare and then nodded.

"As it should be." He said, a smile now coming to his face. Briala gave her own and then Zanrye was off, back to Skyhold to attend to more than just Gaspard.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He arrived within a few hours, the carriage moving at top speed. He was greeted by Solas who whispered in his ear. He nodded and immediately went down to the far courtyard. Within it were emissaries and ambassadors, even one Keeper he saw, of the various clans he had sent letters out to (via Solas) only days before. Josephine and a few guards greeted them and saw them to cups of water or wine. Zanrye approached with an open, smiling expression. Inviting.

"Andaran atish'an." He spoke a formal greeting to them all, palms facing them as he walked towards them. Josephine smiled a surprised smile his way as he approached.

" **You have our gratitude, Inquisitor Lavellan** ," the Keeper spoke up before all the rest.

" **We are here as friends**." He said to them all, responding in kind. " **But within these confines, unless otherwise noted, we must all use the trade language out of respect for those who do not know the language of our people**."

" **We all here are Dalish**." Another elf spoke up, June clear on his face.

" **Yes but others later may not be**." Zanrye said. " **And to accommodate my own Second and my Ambassador, I ask that we enact this peace treaty in the trade language if possible**."

There was a bit of a stir but most of them switched immediately. Two did not. They either refused or were a particularly special (probably small) clan that only spoke elven.

"I'm happy that you all responded to me as I reached out." Zanrye said. "And this turnout is more than I could have hoped for." He stepped before them now. "I welcome you all to Skyhold and would like each of you to follow the Inquisition Ambassador Lady Montilyet inside. You may keep your bags or we would be happy to take them and feed you all."

"Clan Telnasen has traveled a long journey, Inquisitor." One man spoke up. "I would feel better once they have begun to set up camp—and have been fed."

"I understand." Zanrye nodded, ordering scouts to follow the ones who needed to return to their camps out with gifts of food and blankets. He watched as the rest made their way into the main office area. He turned to Josephine, voice low. "These are our allies who've volunteered to aid the Inquisition." She looked quizzical.

"When were these agreements made?" She asked. "That was near five different contacts."

"Some time ago." He lied. "They are contacts of Biloro. And they are willing to provide soldiers for land. And I think we have enough east of the mountainside to accommodate them."

"This…will take some rearranging." She bit her lip. "This is so unexpected—not to say I'm not pleased at such allies—" He took her hand discretely and then smiled at her.

"I want you to oversee the elven Keepers and Ambassadors." He said.

"Me?" She asked. Her eyes showed her shock, contrasting to his calm face.

"You're the Ambassador." He chuckled.

"Biloro was one thing, Inquisitor." She was flustered. "I know nothing of these different groups."

"Files for each are on my desk, rolled together." He told her. "You'll get to know them." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Solas and a scout coming his way. He nodded to them.

"I…" Josephine's voice was small. She was touched. This responsibility meant something to her. Zanrye knew it would. And he gave her as much to stop her questions. "I will do my best."

"I know you will." He said, smiling. He turned from her and walked over to where Solas stood. The scout saluted him.

"Lena Lavellan has arrived, Inquisitor." The woman said. Lana was yet climbing the steps. Zanrye patted the woman's shoulder and then took Lana is his arms, hugging her.

"Welcome back." He told her, smiling. "But where's Nishia? I asked for you both."

"We are traveling near Wycome and Nishia is needed to oversee the hunters." Lana said calmly. "We have things under control for now but we can't lose so many important figures."

"Is something wrong? Problems?" Zanrye asked, his eyes sharp and worried. She patted him.

"Minor things as far as we can see." She said. "And we have been in worse areas."

"Send a raven to Keeper as soon as you can make sure your absence wasn't to damaging."

"It will be fine." She shook her head. "But I hope that I'm enough for what…we discussed."

"You are more than enough." He smiled at her, walking with her, Solas tailing them. He stopped her at the entrance to the main part of the castle. "And I was prepared in case you two couldn't be taken from Keeper's disposal. I don't want to put you all in danger." He told Solas to stay where he was. "Solas is at your disposal if you need another mind or magical backup. Are you ready?" She inhaled, clasping her hands and looking up at him with determination.

"As ready as I ever will be to play Keeper." She said.

"It's what you're raised to do." He reminded her.

"Not on this scale," she said. Zanrye yielded to that fact and then gave her a roll of parchment.

"The complete list of all the Clans so far that have responded agreeably, and those who have not yet refused." He said. "All the information you need is here."

"And which are…known?" She asked. "Or are there still going to be some that are known? By the Inquisition? I saw a group of Clan Emissaries when I was coming up?"

"Yes." Zanrye said. "I have to have a balance, establish an elven presence so that those unknown won't be scrutinized. They are marked in the files too." He looked at her seriously. "Everything is marked. I am directing the rest of the clans to go to the eastern location. I will make an appearance when I can but until then, you're my mouth. And all of this, bringing them together, is on your shoulders."

"No pressure." She rolled her eyes. He laughed.

"All the pressure." He let out a chuckle. "And I know you don't need any more pep talks but I…" He looked out into the sun reaching even higher into the sky. "I…really think we have a chance here. To…build…the way it was built before. Arlathan…." He can feel the words spilling familiar yet foreign from his mouth. It was a pipe dream. It was impossible. It was stupid to think he could build an elven regime, an elven state, an elven place of love and safety—especially using the Inquisition.

But he couldn't not try to.

He'd come this far already. He had spies in Orlais. He had soldiers under his command (even if they weren't elves) at his dispoal in the Ferelden area. He had Biloro welcoming more and more clans to the Western Approach's Oasis and beyond. His influence was reaching farther than he could ever imagine it reaching. And now he had a personal army and community forming. He was not in a fantasy, no. But this was ambition. He could do this. If he tried hard enough, was sneaky enough, had enough people he could trust (hence bringing in Nishia and Lana) then he could do it….

"If we succeed, perhaps you really have been the Chosen one…champion…for Sylaise." Lana smirked but she put a soft hand on his back. "Building elves a home…a hearth." She rubbed him and he clasped her hands and then exhaled.

"But it can't be done without planning." He said simply. "So…because of Nishia cannot come, I will direct my contact within Clan Telnasen to come to you, and move his clan. He was to be Nishia's aid. He waits for orders even now. You can trust him. And work with him. I want an army ready as soon as one can be."

"I understand." Lana said and Zanrye knew she did and knew that she would lead this new elf area and produce mages to rival the forces of even the strongest Tevinter magisters. She was perfection, even in training.

"I have to go and see to the complaints of those in Skyhold." He said. "I know I've to make more judgments…for whoever comes forth. At least fifty or so…before I leave."

"Going?" She questioned.

"Many places." He shrugged. "When Cassandra is ready, I'll depart with her—in however many days she needs. And then Dorian needs supplies from town…just…many things."

"Have to tend to Skyhold's hearth, hm?" She teased. He smiled back.

"Yes." He said. "Yes I do."

* * *

PRESENT

ORLAIS

The scene before the two of them was just like a circus. Orlais was indeed vibrant, putting on spectacles and shows as the and and merchants gathered to view the dancers and masked performers of all different tales special to them.

Zanrye could not discern a time since he'd joined the Inquisition when he'd been happier.

He had on a loose, low-necked shirt of green and tan pants. Josephine's dress was yellow and short with legs and arms exposed, upper limbs covered only by a shawl that would sometimes remain and other times be kept at her waist. Her joy echoed throughout Zanrye's own body. He laughed with her, smiled with her, felt with her. She loved Orlais more than he ever would but he felt a visceral connection to it through her. They sifted through dancers, musicians, actors, and commonfolk. Side by side, they gaped and gawked at all the spectacles and showings of magic, sampling different fruits.

After they tired of the music and the festival, the horse loaded down with their purchases, he and she made their way into the more secluded gardens. They had bought lunch and he laid out the padded blanket they'd brought underneath a thick tree for them.

They ate nug-nug and drank over-priced antivan wine, dandelion wine for Zanrye. He'd grown accustomed to it. From here, they could yet hear the music and see from a more inconspicuous place the interactions between the different people.

"Oh and the sailing." She gushed to him as they sprawled out on the blanket, one hand always touching the other's. "That is probably what I miss most of all…from when I was younger." She looked out wistfully into the sun, the light catching her, wind tugging ever so slightly at her hair. "Me and papa and Yvain…always used to adventure out somewhere. That's what my father called it. Just to go across the water, underneath the sky as it was then…." She smiled at him now. "The simple pleasures that a child takes in life."

"Sometimes the most intense pleasures are those that are simple." Zanrye said softly. He laid on his back, one leg crooked. She sat up, ankles crossed and legs stretched out, catching the sun as well. Her gaze traded between him and the spectacles before them. The calm, languid feeling had taken over them both.

"Like a horse ride." She giggled, one hand swiping at his chest. Zanrye's neck was warm and his chest ached right under his breast. Days like today, he knew he yearned for the touches.

"Do you think you might want to go out on the water again? Just for pleasure?" He sat up. She sighed heavily.

"I don't know." She said. "I can't see myself feeling quite the same about it, given what's happened with the family business." She turned to him. "Something I will be forever grateful to you for helping fix."

Zanrye smiled and shrugged her off; he looked out as well now, the plants and flowers abundant before them. He took it in with a large inhale.

"I know that nature does that for me." He said truthfully, looking out. "And whenever I think that it won't hold that affect…areas like the Hinterlands, the Plains…they always manage to resurrect the feeling within me." He looks at her now. "It's in my blood—like sailing is in yours." He now smiled. "Like how theater…and music is in yours."

Josephine did not respond but looked down and glanced up at him through her lashes. He took his cue and wrapped an arm behind her. She rested her head against his shoulder and he felt her exhale into him, and wrapped his arm tighter.

He kept a smile always on his face, nuzzling his cheek into her hair. Her touches were like soft nature caresses and made the sun feel just a bit nicer on their skin than it had before.

"I suppose then we are both within our elements." Josephine said after a moment of this peace and smiled at him. The waltz music was yet within their ears and the flowers and greenery seemed to stand out, clouds gone from the sky. He did not respond. Instead, he let his lips softly kissed her own, emotion pouring from him when he felt her respond, kissing him in kind. _Will it ever stop feeling like this? Will it always be this nice?_

"It's hard to imagine this is the first time you've eaten a royal berry as well." She giggled at him and the two shared a laugh as he rolled his eyes. Their bodies remained pressed supportively on one another.

"I'm not as rich and refined as you m'lady." He said to her.

"You needn't be to have tried one." She shook her head. "If you've lived in the Orlais area for as long as you have, your clan must have kept to themselves very much not to have tried it."

Zanrye reached behind them to produce the wooden bowl of berries, taking one and eating it. It was easy on the tongue and sweet, though cold. It was a cherry but it was not. It had been altered.

"They are all I would ever eat once I was old enough to have the bit of wine that is soaked into it." Josephine ate one as well, picking up a second. "I remember my mother used to make pies from them. Our servant Lisbeth took over the recipe but always mama's were…." She sighed now, the second cherry halfway to her mouth, frozen with her thought. "They were like home."

She spoke with wistfulness that made Zanrye's ears prickle and he saw her stare at it for a moment longer before her eyes came back to his, the homesickness there alongside happiness.

"Just a fruit…but it has…that much meaning?" He asked softly, her eyes pulling him in.

"Well…they do in unconventional ways." She spoke equally soft, the fruit remaining. Her smile was tender. "I am glad to share it with you." Her tone, full of intimacy, is clear.

Zanrye felt his chest continue to ache. There was intensity in her stare and then he was taking her occupied hand and raising it to his own mouth. Josephine's face was fixed on his and she slowly fed the cherry to him, thus allowing him to take the fruit and the tips of her fingers into his mouth. Her hand remained in his as he chewed the fruit deliberately; his lips came back to her fingertips more delicately now. Josepine watched him and he saw her eyes become hooded. He watched her as he caressed her fingers and slipped the pointer through his lips, sucking it gently taking all remnants, before pulling to the tip and kissing it. Josephine's breathing was heavier now.

He felt himself blush at her stare, unsure of her reaction. Pleasure? Shock? Dreamy? He kissed down her arm softly, lips hot against her wrist and palm and forearm. She smelled like flowers.

The kisses they traded were gentle, his arms around her in a warm embrace. Their bodies leaned flat against the blanket, arms gently wrapped around each other as the sun shone down on them, grass beneath them, festival before them. And here they would stay, for as long as they could. They would have to return to the Inqusition in less than an hour. They both knew this. But for now, Zanrye felt himself latching onto the calm here, the strength that he felt in her arms. And for the first time since he'd met her, Zanrye truly felt…he didn't want to leave her arms…no matter who was waiting for him.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

They arrived back at Skyhold just as the sun was descending. He bid Josephine goodbye with a squeeze and then descended into the prisons. He went alone, without alerting anyone, and came upon the guards outside Gaspard's cell only to tell them to go.

"Have you come to kill me quietly then?" Gaspard's solemn voice came out from within the cell. Zanrye stood against the bars, the man's shoulders slumped, staring at the wall.

"No. When you die, it will be public execution." Zanrye said. Gaspard gave a dry laugh.

"Then what…pray…are you doing here, Inquisitor? Here to gloat? Message from Celene and her pet rabbit?"

Zanrye eyed the man, whose pride was still there even in the face of his own possible death. He was yet resistant against a stronger force.

"I came to talk." Zanrye said evenly, opening the cell door with a loud clang. Gaspard bristled but otherwise didn't react. Zanrye closed the door behind him and dragged the outer chair inside (Gaspard was on 24 hour surveillance). He sat on level with the man to coxe him out of silence.

"What do you want, elf?" Gaspard asked him tiredly. "If you aren't here to kill me?"

"You should know I'm not here to kill you." Zanrye said simply. "Or else maybe you're not as smart as I figure you are."

There was a silence and Zanrye waited, holding his breath, for his bait to work. And it did.

"This would be an unwise time." He said as if he knew that all along. "But why should I expect you to think as men like me do, 'Inquisitor?'"

"Because I feel we both think alike." Zanrye said simply. Gaspard scoffed at that but Zanrye continued, "There's bigger things at work than you and I, than you and you sister—your cousin."

"And yet such squabbles became a personal concern of yours." Gaspard said instantly and Zanrye saw that he was sitting straight up now. Just a little more….

"They became my concern because they were Corypheus's—as your sister felt, remember?" Zanrye said coldly. Gaspard did not respond and Zanrye continued, "Florianne still lives…for now of course."

"And as do I." Gaspard spat. "Get to the point, Inquisitor. I thought you didn't care for games."

"My point is that you're alive because I never wanted you dead." Zanrye said. "I still don't. The point is, certain circumstances led me to stop you from usurping Celene. Not my own wants."

There was a long pause and he knew the Duke was carefully considering his words and thinking before he spoke, in fear this was a trap or ploy, or that Zanrye was still an enemy—which in truth, Zanrye was.

"You aided her; you exposed every shred of evidence you had against me." He spoke to the wall.

"That was to convince Celene to trust me and my ally Briala." Zanrye said simply.

"So that you could unite the two—" Gaspard said scathingly but Zanrye interrupted.

"No." He said bluntly, voice snapping. This made Gaspard finally turn around to look at him and Zanrye kept his eyes narrow and offended. Gaspard arched a brow,

"So you don't like the idea of my cousin fucking one of yours eh?" He gave a half laugh.

"Why would anyone approve of that, after what Celene's done to her?" Zanrye said simply.

"So you know?" Gaspard asked.

"I know enough." Zanrye shrugged. "And I know that Celene is only a necessity, but not a true force of change. And change is what I want." He eyed Gaspard. "You tried to show me that you were a reasonable man at the peace talks…so…was that a mask?"

The duke was trying not to give away too much. Zanrye knew it. But the man was too intrigued now by this exotic, worthy opponent and…potential ally.

"I'm reasonable enough when I have cause to be." Gaspard said simply. "But not in all things, Inquisitor. Now," his voice was hard, but falsely, "what do you want from me?"

"I want to make a deal with you." Zanrye said. He gave Gaspard a moment to process this.

"What could you possibly want from me?" Gaspard asked, suspicious.

"For you and I to be allies." Zanrye said.

The silence that followed made Zanrye nearly smile. Gaspard was shocked, genuinely. He now turned fully to Zanrye and heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes and then looking at Zanrye.

"You worked against me to give Orlais to Celene." Gaspard's eyes were narrow.

"Yes. I did." Zanrye said simply. "But even though you may hate the game, you understand circumstance, Duke. And that's what that was. Let me put it this way Duke: as long as Corypheus lives, Celene must live. Your sister let slip that Celene was a priority of his. And I would rather not give him what he wants." Gaspard was not budging…outwardly. Zanrye continued, "That was my reason for saving her from your sister." He pretended to think for a moment. "I care about change…for elves…. You care about Ferelden…revenge…war." Zanrye nodded as he spoke these words. "And I can understand that. I don't care. But I understand. And I need the same from you."

"You want me to understand what?" Gaspard asked.

"Duke." Zanrye sighed as if the Duke should understand this. "I want you to understand that I'm going to do what I can for elves in Orlais and all places the Inquisition touches."

"I have no say in what happens to elves in Orlais." Gaspard retorted.

"Not yet, no." Zanrye agreed. "But you could…with the Inquisition's help."

"You're speaking in circles." Gaspard sighed heavily, breaking down.

"Okay, let me speak more plain." Zanrye said, pretending to stifle his own sigh. "Duke, I want to form an alliance with you. Why? Because I think we can benefit each other. You care about Ferelden and occupying it. I care about the situation for elves everywhere, including Orlais. And I care about the elven Marquise. You don't. In fact, if Josephine is right, your family is one that wanted Celene to be harsher to the elf rebels and rioters."

"And that's someone you want to work with?" Gaspard shot at him, trying to get a rise.

"Absolutely." Zanrye shrugged. "At least then I know what I'm dealing with—where your weaknesses are. There's a clear agreement."

"Then the question remains what could you possibly be able to use me for that you cannot use Celene or her pet for?" Gaspard tried to be hard but failed.

"You are a decorated army hero and someone who understands the finer points of war." Zanrye said with an earnest tone now. "You can do a lot of things for me, Duke. I know it may be hard for you to respect me or trust me given our circumstances but I think you're a man of principle—and can be one of reason. And that's not someone to be discarded, not after Corypheus has been stopped." He raises his voice. "And I can give you a lot in return of course. That's if we can reach some sort of agreement—terms—and become allies."

"And how do you wish for us to come to this agreement" Gaspard's eyes betrayed him. "Me sitting in a cell? Conscripted? Working as your spy?"

"No, Duke." Zanrye said, leaning forward now. "I don't want a slave. If I wanted that, I wouldn't be down here talking to you. I want a partner, all cards on the table, all intentions clear." He gives the man a half smile. "I'm not basing this on honor alone, either. I'm offering to make an alliance with the Inquisition that'll be worth your while Gaspard."

"And what is worth my while, Inquisitor?" Gaspard asked him, voice no longer sarcastic but asking a genuine question. Zanrye's response was simple.

"Orlais." He said. "And if you truly want it, Ferelden too."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

The seat felt right to Zanrye—comfy. He liked it too much he knew, towering over those who would be judged. They had acquired two dragaon statuettes as well, striking fear into the hearts of those who came to be judged. They were contrasted by the hallas, beasts that marked Zanrye as a worthy and majestic ruler.

But he was not ruthless. He was sad.

The mayor of Crestwood was before him. The villagers were all safe now, safer than they would be had the man not performed the heinous crime he had years ago. The damning papers and bodies the Inquisition found proved that he had sacrificed the infected and those too slow to make it to the village. It had all been to protect the people yet living. And in truth, it had worked. And now he was before the Inquisition, before Zanrye. And a choice had to be made about how to punish him. No matter what Zanrye felt, this was a decision that would reflect the strength and justice of the entire organization.

"I couldn't tell the survivors I'd drowned their own families to save them." He said, ashamed. "I, I just couldn't."

"And still you ran…Mayor Dedrick." Zanrye's face was unreadable.

"Please your worship." The man was beaten and his pleas were no longer animated. "I did all that I did for the village—to save whom I could."

Yes, he made a hard decision. He made a decision that Zanrye could see himself making more and more. A few years ago, perhaps not. The sacrifice would have seemed too large but he was sure Nishia and Ponawen would have made the choice for him, and he would have instantly went along. This was the best choice given the situation.

"Well the Blight was your undoing." Zanrye said finally. "It could also be your means of redemption. The world needs a few less demons, always." He sat back. "I will see you to confinement until the matter with the Grey Wardens is taken care of. When they become mobile once more, you will join them and fight Darkspawn until the calling takes you." He could see the man's face light up with surprise and he tried to contain his relief.

"I don't deserve the honor your worship." The man said pathetically. "But I'll do my best." Zanrye nodded and let the man, the fifth person that day, leave him, going to the dungeons. Zanrye once more reflected on what would happen if the Wardens, all of them, were indeed gone. Then what? What would the world do without their first and last defense against every Blight that could possibly happen? What would the world do if the Wardens suddenly became the Blight?

His thoughts were interrupted as the blonde woman was walked into the courtroom. He steeled himself, swallowing. It was time.

"I do not think a reminder is needed for this accused." Josephine said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Though these titles are nearly all at risk of being forfeit. You spared her life, despite her treachery, but what becomes of it is up to you."

"You seem out of your element, Florianne." Zanrye couldn't keep his smile small. "Welcome to my party." The woman said nothing but gave a scathing noise.

"She has acknowledged your authority." Josephine continued.

"Should I curse you in the name of the Elder One?" The woman asked softly. "I realize he had no intention of honoring the agreement." She sighed, voice strong. "Do as you must. I respect your mastery of the game, Inquisitor. Even if I hate your victory. Celene does not know her fortune." _Nor do you_ ," Zanrye thought, eyeing the woman with contempt.

"You don't want to say anything else then Duchess?" He offered. "You don't want to speak on how you ran, conspired with the enemy, or put all of Orlais and Thedas in danger?"

"I was outplayed and I was a fool." Florianne said in a haughty voice. "What more is there to say? This fact is known. I reached for what I thought was evolution."

Zanrye could not believe the woman's gal and wanted nothing more than to execute her. But he knew that now he couldn't. Not with so much at stake. But he was getting good at this plotting thing. And he would kill her eventually….

"Despite all you have done, I am inclined to make use of you." Zanrye said. He felt the small witness pool's eyes grow wide staring at him. He had to speak through his teeth. "Like most nobility, you've never walked in the shoes of those you've endangerd." He sighed. "So I will give you one last change. You'll do common work—farm work. Under constant surveillance in Ferelden. Your first mistake there will be your last."

He heard her give a cheeky reply but ignored it. He had already seen quite a few people. The throne was closed. He rose and walked to his room to possibly change or bathe when Josephine stopped him.

"I will not speak on your judgments Inquisitor—" she began.

"But you can." Zanrye told her. "I want your input on these things Josephine. You're the political side of this whole operation."

"But these are military matters." She reminded him but spoke anyway. "I…do…think that perhaps Florianne should have been eliminated. You did kill Alexius for similar crimes."

"You don't like violence." Zanrye reminded her, voice teasing.

"And you have acknowledged that at times it is necessary." She shot back. "In future cases, with someone who is adapt to the game and has worked with another force, it would be best for morale and very wise in itself to kill them. Inquisitor."

"I'll defer to your judgment." Zanrye nodded, continuing on.

"But that…is not all I wanted ot speak about." Josephine said. He turned back to her and she lowered her voice now. "We still have not spoken about the Mother who visited…and she has done so again."

"What does she want?" He asked.

"She wishes for a new Divine." Josephine said seriously. "The chantry is itching for some form of authenticity and stability. And they need Leliana and Cassandra for that, she says."

The mention of Cassandra stopped Zanrye more so in his tracks. He became indignant.

"Why does she need Cassandra? Or Leliana?" He asked.

"They were the right and left hand." Josephine explained. "They represent the previous Divine's wishes for Thedas, as the mother explained. They hold power in their existence now and could rally together so many by just appearing."

Zanrye thought. He could piss on the chantry but he knew what it meant to the two women in question. He sighed at another headache that now appeared but he took it all in stride.

"So are they there to make a decision?" He asked and knew the answer from Josephine's expression.

"One of them could become Divine, Inquisitor." She said. "It is only a matter now of time."

"And how much time would that take? And why?"

"Several months she said." Josephine saw his expression and comforted him as best she could without any physical touch (as thye were within the public eye). "Whoever is chosen… they will not be coming back." Zanrye's reaction was instant.

"Then they can't go." He said. "They're crucial to the success of the Inquisition. Cassandra is all I have in the field and Leliana is how we expand, get agents. You, Leliana, Cassandra. All of you indispensable." He calmed himself.

"Nothing is decided. I have sent her away but she will come again." Josephine said.

"We'll just…we'll just have to prepare. And see." Zanrye said. Josephine gave him a sympathetic look and they parted ways, his leading him to the courtyard. He didn't get to contemplate for too long before he was approached by none other than Cassandra herself.

"It is time." Was all she said. And without a word, Zanrye followed her out of Skyhold and onto the road.

* * *

PRESENT

CAER OSWIN (FERELDEN)

The promisers, Cassandra called them. The large castle was seemingly abandoned yet the men and women remained and attacked them on sight as they made their way deeper beneath the deterioriating beams. Fanatics who believed they were seekers, out to destroy all who set foot in the area. They wanted to destroy the world and rebuild it, in order to right the wrongs and evils. A dream that was shared by many, even if not all would admit it.

The man was dead and the orders on the note were clear. The venatori were involved, as they were in all of this mess. The red lyruim didn't work on the Seekers and Corypheus had given them over one by one to their mortal enemies. Corypheus couldn't control them….

"We have to keep looking." She urged him. He nodded slowly and she repeated. "Inquisitor."

"I'm with you." He said to her. And truly he was. "We'll find them…I'm sure at least some of them made it." And he did think this. He was not going to lie to her.

"Right." She nodded, her face struggling to remain impassive. But how could she? The carnage was up to their knees and it was the blood of her family, the Order, that was spilled. Not just the Promisers who'd held them captive.

"Cassandra…are you worried?" He asked her. She swallowed.

"Of course." She said bluntly. "They are my family."

"Besides that fact." He said. The woman did not say anything at first. Then she inhaled deeply and looked straight at him.

"There are few things I have," she said finally. "that I hold dear. The Seekers are one such thing. My friends, comrades…." She looked away, her blinking telling of her wet eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm sorry they got caught up in the middle of all this…. I'm sure that we'll be able to at least find out what happened. Okay?"

She nodded and said nothing. He watched her lead them through another set of doors that took them out of the open woodsy area and into the dank, dark lower level of the castle. The walls were crumbling. The torches showed the bloodstains and the decorum that honored the Templars while housing the Fiery Promisers all the while. The eyes seemed to watch them as they moved into the area, peer at them as they saw the shadowy figures moving twitchy-like as they no doubt heard the faint sounds of commotion from the grassy plain above them.

Zanrye ripped his sword through the man's side before anyone else could react. Cassandra was active within moments. She took out her shield and slammed an archer to the ground. The battle began seconds later and Zanrye cursed the fact that he did not have Solas here to shield them, as they had come alone. It was a matter she had only trusted him with. Zanrye was grateful.

The assassin went down as Zanrye swung in a continuous loop, blade ripping through all his foes, balancing his weight so that each blow made an impact. The screams of surprise echoed throughout the empty halls. Zanrye felt numb. The situation was bad. He knew it was bad. There were dead seekers everywhere and the Promisers were too few in number to still be here, as if they had abandoned this site earlier. But did they leave because they had offed all the seekers or because they had relocated them?

Cassandra's cries took Zanrye out of his head as he plunged his sword into the remaining Promiser before him, ripping between his collar and denting the bones. He lifted his sword out and saw her running to a half-dead man leaned against the colossal stone steps.

Zanrye approached slowly, and he began to pick up their conversation, realizing it was a seeker. Her voice was saturated with affection and relief before her tone turned. Zanrye's body stiffened as he heard the word possession. He stopped next to them.

"I'm not possessed," the man, Daniel, said. "But they fed me things. I can feel it growing." Zanrye nearly backed away, he was so aghast.

"Can a…demon…be grown inside someone?" He asked, his eyes wide and at Cassandra.

"Savages!" She said through grit teeth, her tone lethal. "I will tear every last one of them apart!"

"Is there…anything…can anything be done to…help him? Or fix him?" Zanrye asked weakly, digesting the horrific thought.

"I…I don't know." Cassandra said, face tight and pinched. "This thing…."

"The Lord Seeker." The man struggled to speak. "You must find him, Cassandra." He spoke to her as a brother would a sister—a younger brother to an older sister.

"Of course." She assured him instantly. "If he lives—"

"Lucius betrayed us Cassandra." Daniel said, his voice hollow and betrayed. "He sent us here… one by one…on "important missions."" The man's face contorted in anger. "He lied…he lied the whole time. He was working with them, Cassandra. The whole time."

"The demon." Zanrye said, the thought entering his mind. Cassandra's eyes perked but the man spoke over them.

"No." He shook his head. "I know the demon you speak of…it came later…he let it take his place. He let is so he could be here…."

The silence that followed made Zanrye's skin crawl. Her family…the father of her order… the man she looked up to and defended months ago in Val Royeaux…betrayed her and sent the seekers to their ends.

"Cassandra—" he started but she shook her head.

"Now is NOT the time for pity." She said firmly. He kept his mouth shut, knowing she was right. It was the time to enact revenge. And Zanrye was right behind her.

"Wait, wait." The man begged. "Don't leave me like this Cassandra." Zanrye looked to her, still kneeling next to the living corpse.

"You should have come with me, Daniel." She said, her breathing shallow. "You didn't believe in the war any more than I did."

"Well…you know me…I wanted that promotion." He chuckled drily. But his eyes were as pained mirrors of Cassandra's own. She said a prayer and spoke to him about the Maker and Zanrye watched her give the man a loving, affection grip on the shoulder before she drew her sword, said a word, and plunged it into his chest to still his breaths forever. Her footsteps away from the man were hollow and Zanrye followed behind her as they ascended the steps to the high ground once more. She answered questions that he hadn't asked yet but knew he would.

"He was my apprentice." She said in a soft voice. "I have never known a finger young man." She sighed. "I will never forgive this. We are going to find Lord Seeker Lucius. Now."

Zanrye nodded to her and walked out into the open air at her side. As if an omen had been following them, they stepped out to meet an entourage of three. The man at the front was none other than the Lord Seeker. It seems that there were more Promisers than Zanrye had imagined since they were able to get a message across the grounds. He readied himself, sizing up the force before them. He could feel Cassandra's bloodlust.

"Cassandra." The man said, his voice eerily indistinct from the demon's. "And a man I can only assume is the Inquisitor." Zanrye didn't answer him but instead drew his sword. There was no need for idle chatter. He need only have Cassandra's OK. The man eyed him and then continued, "I presume you know that we Seekers were once the original Inquisition. We fought for order, as you do now." Zanrye's eyes narrowed.

"Most of you." Zanrye shot at him. Cassandra's face seemed as if she'd seen a ghost.

"All of us…became proud, Inquisitor." The seeker said. "Instead of restore order, we wanted to remake the world…'better'…." He eyed him with eyes that seemed to seep into Zanrye's soul. "At the time…we produced the chantry, and a circle of magi…and from that—a war. I wonder what you will create…."

"What you created was a way to police the negativity, not to balance it." Zanrye said, voice harsh. "And we're not like you. Besides, what you were then is not what you are now. And you betrayed your people, the seekers."

"Why?" Cassandra's voice rang out loud in the open field. "Why? Because you hate our order?"

"We are abominations Cassandra." Lucius sighed. "We created a decaying world, fighting to preserve it even as it crumbled." He produced a book. Zanrye's arms flexed and his sword raised defensively. The Lord Seeker's eyes went to him but his movements didn't stop. "This book…it was given to me by the previous Lord Seeker when he was slain. These…are our order's secrets. The war with the mages? Already begun. But I did the right thing."

"You call putting demons into seekers the right thing!?" Zanrye nearly yelled. He breathed in slowly and turned to Cassandra. "He's insane."

"Lord Seeker…" her voice was angry and aghast. "What you've done…."

"I know." He said as if he truly did. "What Corypheus did with the Templars or the mages does not matter. I have created a new order to replace the old. The world can finally end so we can start anew. A new beginning."

 _Fiery Promise_ Zanrye thought and knew that Lucius was indoctrinated. His grip tightened. The man urged Cassandra to join them. The words ignited her anger and she brandished her own sword, pointing it at the Lord Seeker with eyes full of hate.

Zanrye didn't wait to charge one of the Promisers before Cassandra roped the other, pulling it to her. The Lord Seeker seemed…almost unwilling to fight, moving slow and defensive. As if he truly did want Cassandra to join them. Zanrye stabbed the man visciously, blade ripping through his left side. He pulled out his blade and swung low, blowing the man's entire kneecap. The Knight fell to the ground and Zanrye rushed to where Cassandra defended against the remaining knight and Lord Seeker. The distance closed, he brought the sword flat against the back of the knight's neck where just enough skin was exposed. The man was taken by surprise long enough for Cassandra to penetrate his chainmail and send him onto his back. She ducked as the Lord Seeker sought an advantage and Zanrye thrust forward at the same time, blocking the blade from even hitting the now-empty space where her head had been. He twisted and the Lord Seeker was on the retreat. His movements were ever defensive. They angered Zanrye. _Fight, damn you!_ he thought, he pleaded. He wanted to take the man down, he wanted to bring him to his knees.

He caught the man in the thigh and Cassandra's blade hooked his arm. She wrenched and Zanrye could hear the sickening pop through the armor as she dislocated and possibly broke Lucius's shoulder. The wail from the man made Zanrye's blood rush. But he tempered himself. He knew this was Cassandra's….

The two of them beat the man into submission in seconds and Zanrye withdrew and watched as Cassandra messily chopped into the Lord Seeker's face once, twice, four times, five…. She hacked away, locations varying and he knew she did not want it to be a clean cut, as she could have easily done. She wanted him to suffer and knew that he would never suffer as much as she would. She could only inflict so much pain on the Lord Seeker but it was a pale comparison. Zanrye could see the pain in every facet of her being as she gave a final cry and yanked her sword through the man's remaining neck, severing his head from his body.

Zanrye let her have this moment. He made himself small, waiting for her to relish and find relief in her kill. He knew she needed to have this.

Slowly, she came to and they both began their walk. She wanted to read the book. She wanted to return to Skyhold. Zanrye nodded and they set out back home. She said she knew there must still be some seekers out there. He could not have gotten them all. Zanrye thought of Daniel and the other seekers in the castle, brains on the floor and organs hanging out. Dead. All of them. Vessels for demons. Zanrye chose to remain silent as Cassandra expressed optimism.

He wasn't going to lie to her.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

The raven was in his hands before he and Cassandra had even entered the grounds. He already knew whom it was from and what its contents no doubt held. He took the parchment from the scout and made his way to his room, Cassandra needing her space and traveling to her own. Zanrye laid out the letter and read on his couch, the words written in quick scrawl. It spoke of the two men coming back to coordinate with them before the attack on Adamant. They were correct. The Wardens were indeed there.

Zanrye turned over the names in his head: Wardens, Seekers, Templars, Circle Mages…. All those who had aided to the world's horrific state. But all who had come to do so in some way because of demons like Corypheus. Because of sole opportunists who made power grabs not for supremacy or for order but simply for authority—for the destruction of the world even.

But this was not how he remembered tales of the Wardens from his youth. This wasn't how he saw the Seekers through Cassandra's eyes or even how he saw them when he'd first joined the Inquisition. This view was too light for how he saw Templars and too harsh for Cirlce Mages.

How perspective changed things, muddied the facts, the writing on the wall. But who could really know what the writing said if it was in a different language? Translation was heresy. As was paraphrase.

He chose to sit on his couch as opposed to his bed when he heard the soft knock. He knew that knock and called out that his door was open. Josephine had brought him tea. He smiled and thanked her. She inquired what was on his mind and Zanrye could not give quire a straight answer as of yet. He looked into the cup of dark, slightly sweet liquid and could only think of the bodies he'd seen today, the forces he was assembling, the misplaced trust in him of every shem (and in Briala's case, city elf) he'd touched. Misplaced? That was the best adjective he could summon to categorize the events as they stood. But even that was more translation.

But no adjective would ever be good enough. And as Josephine left him to mull things over, Zanrye also surmised that no action, no decision, no battle would ever be good enough. Until Corypheus's head was on a plate at their doorstep…nothing would be.

* * *

 ** _HELPFUL INFO_**

RECAP

Zanrye checks Briala, Gaspard, and Florianne. He fulfills promise to Cassandra and invites Dalish to the moutain terrain. Adamant, here we come

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

-Some elven from here and continuing on will be taken from the lexicon of fenxshiral

-In case it wasn't clear, there are dozens of Clans that responded who have sent people to Zanrye but the Inquisition formally only knows about five. Lana will oversee the rest.


	18. Wardens of the Elder One

ADAMANT FORTRESS

Grey stones loomed over the force that was the Inquisition. Cullen headed the multitude of archers and foot soldiers. The plan was clear. Distraction and infiltration.

The first flaming boulder from an Inquisition trebuchet that breached the stone sent cries of victory prematurely throughout the troops. But even so, it was good for morale.

Zanrye saw Bull's Chargers to one side. He would have liked the man to be on his task force but there was no one better to lead the mercenary company and he wanted them at their best. The building felt like the death that it would no doubt house. He did not feel the magic from the fade but the air was saturated with the supernatural.

Cassandra was beside him as always. His right hand. To his left was Solas, a constant sight. Behind him, Dorian was rehearsing spells and somewhere in the shadows was Cole, the assassin spirit. Zanrye drew a breath as they barraged the upper ramparts. Arrows came down, blocked only by a shield wall.

The breach was found and ladders assembled. Soldiers climbed. Wardens defended. Blackwall had continually urged him to reason with them. Hard to do when the flaming arrows were aimed at his head…. But all the same. Zanrye did indeed know two versions of the Wardens. They were the multiracial protectors from his youth whose mission was more important than even Elvhen matters. And they were also the desperate, dangerous, mindless pawns for Corypheus. They betrayed the land they swore to serve to this new God (whether intentionally or otherwise). And they were sending down swords and arrows to take him and his team out.

The battering ram struck against the main gates. Already wood went flying. Zanrye's eyes were pinpointed, the ways of battle quickly returning to him. It'd been a while since he had been in this great a battle, and only once before had he participated a war of this caliber. He saw the giant, metal tipped fist breach the wood and felt himself lean forward to the entrance. Cassandra's shield was above them both. Only a matter of time now.

The gate smashed open and Inquisition soldiers came in, Zanrye unsheathing his blade and jumping first into the fray. He ripped through the shades and wraiths encircling them, their essence hitting him. Two lone wardens were with them and went down almost effortlessly by way of Dorian's spells and Cole's surprise attack before he once again faded into invisibility.

"Alright Inquisitor." Cullen said to him, striding forward. "We'll keep the host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"I'll be fine." Zanrye said to him. "Just don't take any risks. Keep people safe. You can't hold out if you're dead."

"We'll do what we have to Inquisitor." Cullen assured him. "Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. Stroud will guard your back." He inhaled deeply. "You have your entrance now, ser. Best make use of it."

Zanrye intended to.

* * *

1 WEEK EARLIER

SKYHOLD

"You'll survive it. Maybe."

Those were the first words out of Breaker Thram's mouth. Zanrye met her on his own battlements and she gave him a once-over, ignoring both his hand and his elven greeting.

"You…are…?" He wanted her name, more than the titles she'd given.

"I'm a Breaker. My name is Thram. That's all you need to know." She said simply a smile formed on her lips. "Odd getting the call…the Inquisitor wants to be a reaver?" She chuckled.

"I never quite pictured myself going reaver either." Zanrye said jokingly. "But the cause demands it…I need the strength to make change happen." And he did. He had researched the available options to him for months now, calling trainers far and wide. He and Cassandra had gotten ahold of her, supposedly the best of the best. Cassandra saw the specialization and was not moved by it—it was a dangerous path and a blood-soaked one. But Zanrye had been instantly drawn to it.

"Right." She said sarcastically. "By any means, you bring peace to the world?" She didn't wait for him. "I will tell you this now, Inquisitor: this is not a road for those who care about what other's think." She crossed her arms.

"Am I…supposed to respond?" He asked her, not cheeky like. He truly didn't know. Her presence alone spoke of battles won and the strength to take on fifty enemies at once.

"You want power. Admit it." She said. He blinked and then thought, realizing it was the truth.

"I want power." He said simply. Indeed, he always had. He wanted internal power, enough to override the fear he constantly felt and to save the ones he loved that remained. He wanted power to make him feel unstoppable like he felt within the heart of the woods, power that made him surge like the screams and scars of his shem victims did. He wanted that at his disposal.

"Good." She approved. "You've battles to win. And if you do give a toss about opinion, you can write your own history after you win." Zanrye determined he liked her already, even if he was a bit intimidated. She stood straighter. "Yes. Let's not waste any time. You have dragons to conquer, blood to drink." Her instructions were plain. "Go retrieve the book on how to make the infusion, find me a dragon—I hear there's one nesting in the Hinterlands even now—and then come back to me…and we will break you."

Zanrye nodded and walked away from her, hearing her call from behind him, "And your ambassador told me of the predicament with time, you're preparing to lay siege to Adamant in about a week's time. You best be quick if you want to start down the path with me as your teacher."

* * *

PRESENT

ADAMANT FORTRESS

The Warden Spellbinder knocked Zanrye back before his sword could pierce through his armor but Cassandra was quick to defend. Zanrye felt a bit shaky, the adrenaline rushing through him, the battle working for him as magic did for mages, as lyrium for Templars. He strafed and instead rounded on another Warden near him, throwing his full weight into a lunge that had him collide with the man's shoulder, sending them both to the ground. Zanrye stood and walked to yet another target, Cole landing on the fallen warden's chest and plunging his twin daggers in with no remorse on his face.

Through the roaring in his ears, Zanrye began to discern noises besides fury and anguish. There were pleas: "brother, this is madness!" "Sister, please!" "I won't be sacrificed for some insane ritual!"

Zanrye danced with a shade until Cassandra took it out and turned to find two cowering Wardens with sword and bow pointed at him. The threat was clear.

"Keep your distance." The leader of the two said, the man holding his sword as a barrier.

"Drop your weapons now, Wardens." Zanrye said and Cassandra stepped forward. The bow became more taut but Zanrye could tell by the movements that the action was not antagonistic but defensive. Scared.

"You keep back from us!" The bowman said, voice shaky. Zanrye eyed the two of them and then looked to Cassandra and Dorian near him. He bit his lip, undecided. His instincts and bloodlust screamed at him to kill them—safer, smarter, wiser. But…they had their minds. And what message would it send to the other Wardens? Were they here to mercilessly slaughter them all?

"We're here to stop Clarel, not kill Wardens for no reason." Zanrye said finally, lowering his sword knowing Cassandra and Solas could protect them. "You fall back, we won't harm you."

The man did not trust him but eventually his limbs grew looser. He nodded slowly.

"Alright." He said, voice warning. "We want no part of this. Do with Clarel what you must."

Zanrye turned and led his forces out of the area.

"Is it wise to let them go?" Solas asked him. Zanrye sighed.

"No." He said. "But I didn't think killing those who fought alongside us, even if they weren't allies, to stop those demons and other wardens would have sat well with anyone."

"Perhaps not." Solas remarked. "Yet I would caution you from being too impartial. Possessed or no, they are still a threat while Corypheus lives. They are vulnerable to him."

"Finally something we agree on." Cassandra remarked, under her breath.

"I know, Solas." Zanrye said to him earnestly. "I know…both of you. But having friendly swords at our backs is better right now, alright?"

Solas did not respond but he did not press the issue. Dorian seemed relatively negligent about the entire situation. Zanrye followed the sounds of fighting, and left a trail of death behind him as he made his way up to the battlements. He needed to create a way for Cullen and the rest of the soldiers to come through. Then he would find Clarel. And what would he do with her then? Zanrye had to admit that he hadn't really decided yet. In truth, he did not know what he had the liberty…or the heart…to do.

Cole appeared before him as they made it to giant stone steps. The man's white-blue eyes stared at him but through him.

"The archers are no more." He told Zanrye. "I have seen to it. But there are demons, demons of rage. Hawke is having trouble."

"Thanks Cole." Zanrye said appreciatively. They double-timed up the steps to take in the full force of the wind. It buffeted them and the troops attempting to climb. Some were now making progress but three rage demons were tearing all of Hawke's support to shreds. Yet still she stood, fighting valiantly. She blocked all blows and protected herself and her team as well as she could. Her face was one of pure determination.

Zanrye ran forward, sword drawn and swung his blade in a mighty arc that severed the demon's arm as it reached to swipe another soldier. It howled in pain and turned to focus on the Inquisitor. He rolled to the middle of the carnage and, eyes closed briefly, willed the tainted blood within him to grant him strength. With a stomp of his foot, he felt the unearthy bloodlust come to him and now his blade swung with purpose, hoping to draw blood with every swing. The more blood-letting, the more powerful his swings became. The third demon raked its claws through Zanrye's thigh, through his chainmail, and Zanrye hissed in pain.

But his vision only heightened. He saw through red but with stark accuracy. His pain only fueled his power. The blood magic swelling within him sapped at his foes and added to his arsenal. He found his cuts pinpointing arteries, organs, weak flesh. Each was more ferocious than the last. He became a force of nature. The area around him for nearly 7 meters was his. He claimed it, feeding on his strong and weakened opponents. The rage demon writhed in pain as he cut at it and finally, he felt his arm tingle. He fell back and thrust out his mark. The rift materialized in the sky and instantly the demons were sucked towards it, screaming and fighting. But they were no match. As their essence returned, Zanrye closed the rift sharply in an explosion of green light and steeled himself to become calm once more.

A side effect of the path of a Reaver was the strain it put upon the soul more than the body. The tales of Reavers becoming dragons in spirit or going on murderous rampages because they could not combat the bloodlust were maybe exaggerated but not far from the mark. Zanrye's advantage over this path was Sylaise. When out of battle, he dropped to one knee and placed a hand on the earth—even if it was stone in this case. He let his mind and heart be gripped by Sylaise's righteousness, her wisdom, her gifts of control and love.

His emotions were his once more, the dragon that was a part of him now dormant, like a pet almost. Loyal to his mind, its master. This took all of one minute and Zanrye rose, now aware of a bit of pain in his leg. It would fade in time. Another benefit of being a reaver was that pain was more bearable to Zanrye now. Though he could feel it, his tolerance and function levels were heightened and though it was by very little, he swore that he could heal faster than before.

Hawke stood above him, watching him rise. He walked over to her and she quietly awaited new orders. He knew she wanted to lead the troops. She could.

"Defend the troops." He told her. "Make sure you get everyone you can up here. I can carve me way to Clarel. Clear out resistance on this side."

"As you say." She said simply and was striding away from Zanrye. She was a woman of few words, through and through. She preferred action.

"That was the final siege point." Cassandra told him. "We should focus our efforts now on finding Clarel."

Zanrye couldn't agree more. He led them down the steps, a despair demon's shriek filling the hall they were approaching. Zanrye focused in for another fight.

* * *

LESS THAN A WEEK EARLIER

SKYHOLD

With the help of dragon-hunter extraordinaire Cassandra, Zanrye was able to obtain the dragon's blood and kill the beast. He'd taken Vivienne along as well, with Bull in tow. He couldn't have chosen better. Vivienne could slow and stun the dragon just long enough for his team to avoid great injuries. Only Bull had gotten nicked, and it was just a scratch according to him. The beast was almost majestic and its death was almost sad, Inquisition archers raining down steel-tipped arrows into it and his team taking it head on—dozens of people attacking the mighty but unsuspecting creature. But Zanrye knew he didn't have the time to mourn it or to marvel at it. He needed to get back to Breaker Thram. The forces were nearly ready to storm Adamant.

He's gotten rashvine from Leliana's people and infusion primers from Cullen, who was unsure why he needed them. Zanrye was brief.

He'd also not told Josephine about this path. No doubt, she would want him to respond to Lord Chancer and become a Champion, with banners and honor and press. But Zanrye just had to read the message from Chancer and know that wasn't the appropriate path for a number of reasons. The first was that champions operated in a way similar to that of the oh-so-deadly Orlesian chevaliers mixed in with the oh-so-noble Ferelden Captains and Commanders. Neither of these organizations impressed Zanrye much as Orlais' fighters had been outdone by many a Hunter from Lavellan and Ferelden Captains's sense of honor and unity under their banner paled in the face of Elvhen Guards and Hunters and Scouts combined, their championships to the Gods and dedication to the people unbreakable. On top of that, the champion route was insidiously similar to and linked with shem traditions and worked against Zanrye's plans for what he would one day turn the Inquisition into. He need not become a champion for the Inquisition. He was a champion only to the Gods.

And even with Cullen's urging, there was no way in hell he would become a Templar.

He brought the distillation to Thram and bowed before her. She took it, inspected it in silence. Then she smiled at him. Told him to make a choice. Always there was a choice. He could almost hear Sylaise in her throat, speaking words not her own. But of course they were.

"I will make this mine." He promised, the truth in his heart. She approved.

"Good." She said. "Then let us break you."

* * *

PRESENT

ADAMANT FORTRESS

The fight in route to the main courtyard was bloody. Zanrye knew he could withstand any attack, the blood magic healing him at least in spirit, preventing his body from succumbing to the many bruises and cuts he obtained. His group was not so lucky.

Cassandra's limp was painful for him to see. She had ler leg nearly pulled out of its socket by the pride demon that blocked their path. Solas's shield had barely saved her from an ultimate dismemberment. Bull's war axe cut through the demon's side like it was butter and Zanrye, with a war cry, jumped and plunged his sword as deep as it would go into the demon's belly. The rift cut open the sky and the demon was slowly brought to its essence and gone. Solas, nearby, had a bleeding temple and shaky limbs. Only Dorian had gotten out unscathed but only barely. His cape was ripped where falling debirs nearly crushed his skull.

And yet, with all that, they still moved forward. Zanrye knew he could not leave Cassandra anywhere to recuperate. They were too far from Hawke, Cullen, or anyone else. She needed to be with a team to survive. Her face was impassive but he knew this was eating at her. She was humiliated by her being unable to withstand the forces of the demon. She should not be. But she was. Whenever he asked if she needed to stop, she did not respond and kept up the pace. He stopped asking.

The courtyard was packed as soon as they opened the door to it. Wardens stood looking above to the upper landing at a woman who could only be Clarel. She stood next to the Tevinter whelp Erimond. Zanrye's eyes narrowed. He saw the swirling green summoning circle between them. _Shit_.

"Stop them!" Erimond shouted and Zanrye saw that they'd been spotted. "We must complete the ritual!" He froze, his team around him, Stroud drawing his sword. More soliders would be here in time. The siege was over. They'd get here….

"I'm sure you can't stop!" Zanrye said. "If Clarel stops, you can't bind her to your will!" He spoke high up to him, ignoring the presence of the Wardens creating a wall to block him. They were tense but made no moves against him. He felt hollowness in the pit of his stomach. And then Erimond said the unthinkable.

"Yes, I need to bind her to a demon! We all now that!" He said in a voice of someone who knows more than Zanrye does. Zanrye was shocked by his admission. "And yes we need blood magic for that! Hate me if you want but don't hate the wardens for doing their duty!"

"What the…" Zanrye looked around at the clueless, pathetic faces of the Wardens and Clarel's steely resolve. He felt exasperated. "If you know, then why are you doing this!?"

"We make the choices no one else will." Clarel's authoritative voice rang out. "We will never be thanked but we will succeed."

"You will be bound to Corypheus!" Hawke's voice rang out as she arrived, coming in behind Stroud. She nodded at Zanrye, her armor covered in blood.

"It's true!" Stroud said. This seemed to stop Clarel in her tracks.

"But…he is dead." She said suspiciously.

"He's alive and he's the one who we've been fighting, who Erimond is working for!" Zanrye yelled. The woman did not meet anyone's eyes. He saw Erimond whisper urgently in her ear and then her eyes were hard once more.

"Bring it through."

"No!" Dorian shouted. Zanrye placed an arm on the man to steady him. He glared at the wardens, hate and disbelief riddling through him.

"Please!" Hawke's voice rose. "This isn't right! It isn't worth the cost! You are being used!"

"I trained half of you myself!" Stroud said, appealing to sentiment. "Do not make me kill you in order to stop this madness!"

Zanrye tried everything he could. He looked to Cassandra who seemed lost for words and Solas's eyes were glaring daggers. Dorian gave a sigh and seemed to be in a social coma, unable to address what was happening.

"This is not a vendetta against the wardens!" Zanrye shouted. "I've spared those who stopped this, who were not bound by Corypheus!" Clarel's eyes showed surprise. Zanrye sighed and yelled louder, his voice desperate without him meaning for it to be. His voice begging them to stand down, to not do this, to not become the monsters that this day and age was making them out to be, casting shadows over the wardens of his youth. He felt his eyes smart. "I don't want to kill any of you! I never would have imagined this of any of you! Blood magic and magisters and binding yourselves to the very things you have always sworn to kill, to rid the world of!" His eyes were near leaking, and he could not stop them. He saw a helmetless warden to his right. An elven female. "You are all being used! And some of you know this! Don't you!? You know this is wrong! This is not the work or purpose of true wardens!"

He felt tears of anger slowly slip over his lower lids and hastily wiped them away, eyes still wet. And he was crying because why? He never knew the wardens, didn't care about the wardens, didn't personally know the wardens except for now, with Stroud and Clarel and all the demon-linked mages who were doing Corypheus's bidding.

But he had been trained to think of them as heroes. He scoffed but deep down, he felt they were the image of what a united Thedas could be. Human, elf, dwarf, Qunari…all races alike, fighting this adversary that was greater than all others. The Blight and stopping it was more important than even preserving the elven race. His family'd taught him that. The Wardens were the only ones who recognized that and acted upon it. The Hero of Ferelden may have very well been an elf. And if called upon, becoming a warden was indeed more important than almost any other possible job one could get.

But these were not the wardens from those stories. They were not the wardens he had been told about, the ones he envisioned. They were not the heroes who put justice first—immune to the Blight, immune to possession, immune to true corruption the way that every other faction was.

They pissed on that image. They pissed on that heritage. They chose to betray everything they believed in for some mythical "greater good." How could Zanrye not cry when the only impenetrable faction in the history of Thedas suddenly proved to be no better, no stronger, than its counterparts?

"The mages who did the ritual aren't right." A man's voice called finally. "They're…like puppets."

"Do not let him weaken your resolve!" Clarel said sharply.

"But he's right." The elven female spoke. "Diona…she's…she's not in her right mind. She doesn't eat, sleep, talk…she just follows the demon."

"Do not let fear—" Clarel began but Hawke's voice, more viscious than Zanrye ever heard it, overtalked hers.

"She's not afraid!" Hawke growled. "You are! You know what you're afraid of!? You're afraid you've asked all these brave men and women to die for nothing!"

"You've been tricked." Stroud said with dismay.

Zanrye looked to see Clarel's eyes betray her indecision. Erimond whispered fiercely. Solas gripped him by the elbow and Zanrye looked to the man and saw him through blurry vision. He wiped the last of the tears away, and glared at the ground. Solas said nothing. Just helf his elbow, grip firm but caring. Zanrye saw Erimond fail. And then his glare was back on the Inquisitor, his staff hitting the stone, red encircling the tip.

The dragon's roar echoed down into the courtyard as statues and walls were broken by its large wings beating and its claws flexing. Zanrye felt panicked. He took a step back without meaning to and cursed beneath his breath. It was the archdemon.

Balls of lightning struck out at it from its perch and it dove to Clarel, who dodged it, chasing Erimond as he ran away from her, as he had run from the Western Approach. _Oh no you don't!_ Zanrye thought but it was no use. He could not reach him in time. He barely heard Clarel yell, "Help the Inquisitor" before she took off after the man who'd tricked her and ruined the order that was her life. The demon had spawned just as she vanished from Zanrye's line of sight.

* * *

LESS THAN A WEEK EARLIER

SKYHOLD

The breaking was the most excruciating thing that Zanrye had ever experienced in his 31 years of life.

The ritual was a simple but methodical one. Runes were carved around him and he was naked saved for thin trousers. Two mages and Thram were around him. They were secluded, in the forest. Zanrye sat in the middle of the circle, waiting. His breathing was heavy, scared of the possibilities—what if he didn't survive this!? But he knew he would. Knew he had to. Sylaise's blessings guided him. He would survive and adapt.

Breaker Thram spoke words of origin unknown to Zanrye—probably from the barbarian tribes responsible for this path's origination. That or old dwarven. Zanrye didn't know too much of that history to even guess.

Then came the blood. A third was used to mark his forehead and chest and lower back and the rest was for him to drink. He was made to drink about a fourth of what was left before the pain started.

Breaking was literal. Thram and the mages started from the top and Zanrye's head exploded. It could not have literally done so but it felt as though it did, suffering a barrage of magical assaults. The mages pulled and pushed at him, leaving him screaming in pain. But he did not beg for release. Nor did he cry. His eyes smarted. But he did not cry.

Blood was fed to him when the pain traveled south. And where the runes were painted, he felt the blades cut into his skin. He felt fire where they marked. This stage was the most bearable of all the stages, the pain only comparable to getting vallaslin.

The step following was the worst.

Zanrye had his bones broken.

His arm was shattered before he could discern what was happening. His screams soon came to echo throughout the entirety of Skyhold as Thram broke his second arm and his lower ribs. He never became delirious or too shocked to feel the pain. Was it the dragon blood not letting him? He did not know. They fed it to him periodically. His legs were broken and so were his feet, thankfully not his toes or fingers or spine. Those were his "cores."

His body was reduced to mush and then reassembled. He was carried to a private nursing room where three mages mended him, put back his torn muscles and strengthened his bones. The ringing in his mind never ceased however and his blood was on fire the entire time. The blood that spilled out of him was barely visible to him, and soon neither was the room. He saw through red eyes and gibbered through a broken jaw. He was a vegetable.

And even so, he did not fall into a coma. He felt all the pain and was forced to brace it by some magic he had never known before. He drank the last of the blood (more like swallowed it from a bottle) and the burning inside his body engulfed him, becoming an inferno that forced him to let out another round of screams. Thram was speaking but he could not hear her. The mages kept working. He screamed as the fire took him and he could see nothing but crimson. Then he felt his body convulse—impossibly as his bones were all broken—and the fire inside his body took his mind.

He didn't realize he'd passed out until he finally awoke the next day (a few hours later after the ritual). Breaker Thram was standing next to him. The mages were gone. The horrible pain in his mind was now gone but his body buzzed, heart pumping with a rhythm that shook him internally. Zanrye rose slowly to look at her, finding he could move his arms.

"Thought you might have died." She said simply. "But I was right after all."

"What'd…what'd you do?" He asked her, mouth and throat unusually wet. His body still buzzed as if he had just gone for a run rather than slept the day away.

"We broke you. And put you together again." She said simply. "You chose the way of the reaver and have harnessed the power of the dragon."

"Why…why do I feel like…my heart's beating too fast?" Zanrye asked.

"You've added the blood of the dragon to your own—blood more magical and powerful than your own ever was." Thram explained. "Your body is rearranging to accommodate."

"Accommodate what?" Zanrye asked.

"The new you." Thram said simply.

"I still…feel like myself." Zanrye said, sitting up fully now. "Except the…heart."

"Do you?" She said knowingly. Zanrye looked at her and then realized he did but…also didn't. He stood wobbly-like and realized he felt a bit stronger…a bit warmer too…he felt something odd inside of him, like a growth attached to what could only be his soul. But it was not parasitic. It was more like an…extension, or a wrapping.

"But why am I having a heart attack?" He asked.

"Because the blood of the dragon runs through your veins and your heart has to change its normal pulsations in order to beat to the correct rhythm. It must learn how to strain and rest and cease, just as your body does." Thram said this all calmly. "You have been given power and have harnessed magic that your body did not have before. You will never feel quite as you did before, but the place where this will truly manifest is in battle, in passion, in athe attainment of glory." She paused. "Not honor, but true glory."

Zanrye listened to this, feeling slowly his temperature start to cool. He felt less clunky on his legs. He nodded and only got a few feet before she spoke again.

"Now come." She said with a smile. "Your training has only begun. And I have only four days to teach you the basics. We'll have to save the rest for when you get back from Adamant." She stopped. "And if you die there, then I suppose your body truly could not harness such power. It is not meant for all I suppose." Smiles. "But apparently it is for you."

* * *

PRESENT

ADAMANT FORTRESS

The pride demon was backed by wraiths, terrors, and shades. They surrounded Zanrye and he knew there was but one choice.

"Kill the summoners!" He shouted. "Then kill the demons!"

He of course gunned for the demons first. He charged the pride demons, his body heating, his heart pulsing a bit quicker. His muscles became taught as if they had grown bigger but had only grown bigger in power. He brought his point inches into the demon's thick hide, drew back out, and plunged once more. He circled the demon and came back for another attack. Cassandra defended against the shades. They all fell to her blades, getting no purchase.

Solas's shield was ever-present on him and he saw ice shoot and shatter all who Solas could manage. The man was working up a sweat and barely avoiding the electric discharge from the demon every now and again.

Dorian worked no less hard, at Zanrye's side. He threw barriers, bindings, and locks and appeared somewhere in seconds where it should have taken him longer, warping time. His fire evaporated the demon of despair who threatened to encase the Inquisitor in ice.

The unity in the battle was impeccable. The Wardens allied with them and took out the demons one by one. Hawke came to Zanrye's back and the two hacked at the demon, trying to take it out. It was the true target, the one to end all of this. When Zanrye felt his power surge, he broke back and then threw out the rift. It was strong but not enough, only decapitating the demon but Zanrye could no longer hold it. He broke focus and the demon used a great paw to smack him to the side. Zanrye went flying and skidded to a halt, eyes closed in pain. He heard a roar of pain and saw Hawke finish the demon as he scrambled to his feet. He would have thanked her for her good work but he had more to do. Cole was nowhere to be found but that was just as well. He could only help getting into Adamant but he was in fear of being possessed and did not go in further.

Zanrye sprinted to follow Clarel and Erimond and the dragon on their tales. He felt endurance he knew was because of his new talents and took the steps two at a time, Dorian right behind him and Solas and Cassandra slowly make their way as well.

Zanrye finaly reached the two of them only to have Clarel snapped into the jaws of the archdemon right before his eyes.

"No!" He heard himself yell but soon she came rolling back to the ground, body still moving but clearly broken. The archdemon followed her, gunning for him and his team. He backed away slowly, looking around for any exits.

"Solas?" He asked, wondering if the mage had any tricks. "Dorian?"

They were silent, as inequipped as he was. They backtracked as the dragon became closer and closer. Zanrye's heart beat and the fear threatened to grip his mind.

And then Clarel's magic lightning blew a hole into the dragon's chest and it reared and smashed the ground, flipping over the edge and it fell into the abyss.

Zanrye felt the ground before him shake. Panic filled him. His entire body screamed at him: _Get the fuck outta here!_

He ran forward, sprinting. He looked back to see Stroud climbing back up from the rocks. His team was on his heels but the rocks were breakin in front of them. They were going to fall…they were going to fall! No! They'd won! Not like this! NO!

He felt himself skid and grope as the ground broke and he went sliding. He found no purchase. He found nothing. He scrambled but to no avail. His body was soon weightless and he twisted to see his eventual doom, no life flashing before his eyes, no great moment of truth.

And his mark sprang to life and the rift opened before his very eyes before the fade swallowed him.

* * *

A FEW DAYS EALIER

SKYHOLD

Training was harsh and brutal. Breaker Thram fought with him, teaching him styles that focusedon power over speed and toughness over defensive measures. Zanrye did his best to learn these strategies. He knew he must. It was the way of the reaver and how he would best utilize his new body. Though still learn, it harnessed power built for men as large as Bull.

Each day he was covered in wounds that in proper training, he'd take with him to bear. But as it was so close to Adamant, the healers would speed along his mending. It had to be done. He could not be a bloody mess when the time came. It was stupid for him to start training now. And yet Thram insisted. And she was right.

They finished this session with Zanrye limping past Dorian, who gave him much the same reaction Cassandra had about his path: negligence yet caution. He did not believe the blood magic Zanrye used was on caliber with what was used by mages but it was still something to be wary of. Same with Cassandra, who knew too well what those whose minds were affected by the blood magic was capable of. Zanrye assured him things were fine and Dorian rolled his eyes but listened nevertheless. He was too much of Zanrye's friend to rebuke him.

This day, Zanrye also found Solas waiting for him near the entrance. He walked to his friend.

"You surprise me all the time, lethallin." He said.

"Wouldn't want to bore you, da'fen." Zanrye shot back, smirking. But Solas's eyes were glazed.

"You want to study the rest of me too?" Zanrye asked. "To make sure it's alright? Like you did with the mark?" Solas eyed him skeptically and incredulously.

"I think not." He said. "I have no specialty in that field. Blood magic, yes. Blood magic on those who are not attuned to the fade, who are not mages…gained from drinking dragons…no."

"Well, you seem like you're worried about it." Zanrye said simply.

"A little." Solas shrugged. "Though you have survived such an ordeal. I have seen the rituals through my walks in the fade…. They are brands on the memory."

"You always talk about the fade…what you learn from it." Zanrye crossed his weary arms and eyeballed the man. "But where have you been outside of it? Your other studies? You never talk about those."

"Do you wish me to?" Solas asked.

"I have nothing else to do." Zanrye said. Solas paused and then smiled.

"Well…then let's do so somewhere more exciting than this, shall we?" He asked. Zanrye eyed him as he walked towards him.

"You do know that I can't travel far." He reminded the man. "Especially with the war coming up and me in this state—"

"We will not go far, da'len." Solas said kindly. "I promise."

Minutes later, Zanrye found Solas and him back at Haven of all places. The rubble was there but the fortress itself was partially standing. He walked slowly around the lot behind Solas, vaguely unaware of how they'd made it here this fast. Their horses were no doubt back by the forest entrance. He should turn to make sure they were tied in properly since he couldn't remember tying them—but Solas's voice stopped him.

"Haven will always be important to you." Solas said. Zanrye chose to follow the man deeper into the ruined campsight. Some structures were still standing. He couldn't' believe it after what he'd seen that had happened. They walked over to the side of the ruined castle and into the dungeon—the only thing that seemed completely intact. Zanrye remembered this, the first day he set foot in the Inquisition stronghold—though it wasn't that back then.

"I sat beside you while you slept," Solas said to the chains. "Studying the anchor."

"Must've taken you five minutes to decipher what it was." Zanrye joked. Solas shook his head and laughed himself.

"It took longer than you might think." He said. "I ran every test I could imagine and still found nothing…. It was frustrating." He scoffed. "Cassandra threatened to execute me if I didn't produce results." Zanrye had to chuckle at that.

"She's like that with everyone, don't take it personally." He said. This brought a laugh to the mage.

"Yes." He agreed and took one last look at the chains before returning them to the cold winds offset by the meek warmth of the sun. Zanrye looked at what once was. And then only to the trees.

"You were never going to wake up." Solas's voice was thicker now, emotion unintentionally filling it. "But then how could you? A mortal—sent through the fade." He looked frustrated and turned to Zanrye now. "I was upset and had no faith in Cassandra, nor she in me. I was ready to flee for a time."

"The Breach was everywhere." Zanrye eyed him. "Where would you even go?"

"Somewhere I could try to repair the breach before the effects reached me." Solas said mildly. At Zanrye's face, he gave a small shrug. "I never said it was a good plan." He looked to where the green scar still stood in the sky. Or was it bigger than it was when they closed it? Zanrye couldn't quite remember. "I told myself: one more time to seal the rift." Solas's hand stuck out, much like it had when he'd grabbed Zanrye's and held it to the first rift he encountered, magic poruing out of him, Solas guiding it. The man turned back to look at him. "You hold the key to our salvation, lethallin. You closed it—with but a gesture." He looked away before his eyes burned into Zanrye's. "And even then…I felt the whole world change."

His sentiment touched Zanrye and he realized that Solas was telling him that he loved him, that he admired him, that he was in awe of him. He was Solas's link to this world that Solas, curious Solas, did not identify with—not elf, nor human, nor even mage. But solas connected with Zanrye, for better or for worse. When he said lethallin…he truly did mean it.

"I felt a lot change." Zanrye replied finally. "At different points…on this journey." He slowly reached out his hand to the living fade rift. He squinted at it, knowing Solas was watching him. He turned to the man, hand still extended. "You make me question what I wouldn't. You make me see what I wouldn't before." He pauses. "You change my world too." His last sentence is hushed and his arm drops as he says this. Solas walks to him and, after a moment of hesitation, wraps him into a hug. Zanrye hugs him back.

"You change everything." Solas whispered, almost sorrowful. He held Zanrye tighter.

"I love you too, lethallin." Zanrye said to the man. "And I welcome the change." He paused, shy to admit it but he trudged on. "I need you, Solas. It took me a while to figure that out," Solas laughed, "but I need you." He released to look the main squarely in the eyes. "And more than that, I…." He was once again shy to admit it. "I want you here Solas. I want you around me… with me." He scoffs. "I already feel like…you're my family."

Solas's soft squeeze on his shoulder made him smile as the man accepted his lifelone pledge of friendship. The pain and tenderness in Solas's eyes almost made him want to ask another question but then he felt sudden pain where Solas's affectionate touch was. He winced and then looked down to his appendage. He moved it and winced again, pain suddenly in random areas of his body. He suddenly looked up into the sky and saw the scar rather than the open breach. He looked to Solas.

"Where the…Solas, why is the breach open? And why the hell isn't this all rubble?" He looked around. "And how did we even get here?" Solas now gave a small chuckle.

"Well, I said we weren't going far." He said, a soft hand on Zanrye's back as Zanrye looked around. "Where did you think we were?"

And then it all clicked.

"This…isn't real?" Zanrye asked.

"That's a matter of debate." Solas said. "But for all intents and purposes, we can talk about it after you wake up."

Zanrye blinked and then saw the ceiling of his room in Skyhold. He sat up slowly and realized that he had been dreaming. Or rather…mentally visiting the fade with Solas. He furrowed his brow, not sure how to feel about the ordeal. He barely realized that Josephine was writing at his personal desk and now walking towards him with tea. He took it.

"You are up before Thram believed you would be." She said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Zanrye said soothingly but his eyes looked sharply into his cup. "Just taking a trip through the fade is all."

He didn't respond to her questioning eyes. Instead, he just drunk the tea that Solas hated and laid back to let true sleep nurse his wounds.

* * *

PRESENT

FADE

It was not a field trip.

After slowing the fall and finally being able to stand within this place, Zanrye located his party who were also not far. The desolation and ruins and random spurts of energy around them marked this place. It was green and black and white all at once. Zanrye breathed but sensed he was not truly breathing as he would think. And Solas acted like they'd just stumbled into Arlathan.

"I'm sure this is very exciting for you Solas but I would rather advice please." Zanrye said testily, trying to orient himself. His mind was not quite steady here. It was all too…too what?

"It's not the location I would have chosen of course…but to physically walk in the fade." Solas inhaled deep and sighed contentedly.

"So I don't suppose you have any wisdom for this part?" Zanrye pressed.

"Why would I voluntarily come to this part of the fade?" He asked. "The demon controlling this area is extremely powerful. It's some kind of fear." He almost smirked. "We must be aware of manipulation…and be ready for what is sure to be a fascinating experience."

"Dorian?" Zanrye asked the man. "Are you alright?"

"My visits to the fade are usually…more pleasant." He said. He was not as phased as everyone else was, or awed as Solas. "I don't usually wake up feeling the need to bathe." He paused. "usually that is…sometimes I suppose…well, never mind that."

Cassandra's disgusted snarl brought Zanrye's attention to her and her wounded leg. He eyeballed her and she waved him off. She did not want to discuss it.

"If we could just get moving." She urged.

"In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby." Stroud said. "Can we escape the same way?"

"I guess we'll find out." Zanrye said, beginning the walk. No one gave any protest. They all followed him forward, deeper into the fade.


	19. Into The Fade

FADE

The marshes were shallow but only enough to keep the wet out of Zanrye's boots, not the cold. The cold of the fade was felt by all in attendance. But the chill was almost fleeting: felt but not felt. Felt as though through a layer of glass.

Everything in the fade felt this way.

He had to touch it all, even though he knew he shouldn't. Solas had told him the fade was shaped by intent and emotion but he needed to stop before he could just focus on the task ahead. This, what they were experiencing now, was more than anyone could ever say again.

"Nothing is more dangerous than this place, Solas." Cassandra corrected the mage.

"I would beg to differ." Dorian piped up.

"It is something to not be feared, nor taken lightly." Solas refused to side with either.

Zanrye picked up the letter from the barren desk and chair set as they squabbled. It, like others before it, was saved from the water and rested atop a tiny island of stone. This one was about a pilgrim who 'cried in fear of a world with no maker….' Zanrye inhaled deep as he read this fear. He knew he would find more, each asking for light from whomever passed through.

He turned away from the note and searched the area, the arguing behind him.

"Put it down." Stroud commanded.

"It's harmless now." Dorian objected.

"If you believe that, then you are a fool." Cassandra hissed. She was truly not enjoying herself. The pain of her injury was still killing her too. Zanrye briefly glanced behind him as he rummaged around and saw that Dorian rose a fallen foe from the dead and was acting as a puppeteer for it. Truly harmless. Zanrye turned back to the fade log and finally found a candle. He placed it on the desk and instantly a flame rose within it. He turned to his group.

"Let's go." He said. They each took position. He walked in silence mostly, with Solas and Cassandra rarely shutting up. He wouldn't have minded had he not felt so invaded by this place.

"Be strong." Hawke said, coming up beside him. He eyed her for a time and then sighed.

"I am." He said. "Or I will be. Just feels…."

"Physical bodies…are not supposed to be here." She replied. "But I suppose it can't be helped now." She sighed herself. "If there's one thing I've learned from any fade encounter—physical or otherwise—it's to not underestimate anything and keep your mind on the course. No matter the distraction." She looked back. "Something your companions don't seem to know."

"They're all strongly opinionated." Zanrye mumbled, unable to stop his eyes from locking onto a bubbling area within the ever-present puddle that was the ground.

"As long as they—" Hawke stopped mid sentence and tapped his arm. Zanrye looked forward to see a wraith and shade nearby. He knew they wouldn't be able to make it through that easily. He drew his sword, unsure if it would even contact a demon within the fade, and signaled for his companions to ready themselves. He hesitated only a moment before he was in action.

He unleashed a damaging hammering hit down onto the first one and left it pinned to the ground. Dorian's cage came around another. The fade hadn't augmented their abilities and the demons all whittled to their essence soon enough. No one had even broken a sweat.

"Come." Stroud said impatiently. "We need to get to the exit."

What he meant was that Zanrye needed to stop looking around. But Zanrye could not help himself. Everything asked to be examined. The letters full of fear and despair….

"This way." Hawke now co-led with him and pointed to a staircase guarded by two bird-like statues. The group walked past, into a brightly glowing area that beckoned them by shining bright yellow through the dismal green. Zanrye climbed the steps to the upper landing where he nearly bumped into Hawke who had stopped. He looked around her and gasped. He was not the only one.

"By the Maker…could that be…?"

Zanrye heard Stroud's voice but he could not finish his sentence. His mouth was tight as the image of Divine Justinia looked peacefully at him. Everything told him that it was a trick, and a miracle. That this was a lie and a dream. To his right, Cassandra made a strangled noise.

"I greet you all." Justinia said. "You Warden…and you champion." Her eyes were now on Zanrye and he shivered despite himself. She had him rooted to the spot.

"Are you a spirit?" He asked. "A demon…?" He felt Cassandra's head turn sharply towards him but he ignored her.

"You think my survival impossible." Justinia said calmly. "Yet here you stand in the fade yourself. Alive. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have."

"Surely you can understand why we are concerned." Hawke crossed her arms, green eyes bright. "It would be better if you told us what you were…."

"I. Am here to help you." Justinia said simply. "You do not know what happened in the temple of sacred ashes…." She looks to the looming archways before them, in the distance, past the decaying stone brimming with raw energy. "The demon: it is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. If feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon terror."

The flashes of the little he did remember hit Zanrye hard then and he grit his teeth. Fear. This demon…the one that controlled this part of the fade…was his ultimate adversary. That which gripped his soul's edge and made him weak, made him forget himself. _The fear_. He felt that his lips trembled slightly as he whispered a prayer to Sylaise.

"It created the false calling that terrified the Wardens into making their mistake," Justinia said.

"Why is Corypheus able to command so many demons?" Zanrye asked.

"I know not." Justinia said softly. "But the Nightmare serves willingly. Corypheus has brought much terror into this world. He was one of the magisters who unleashed the First Blight…was he not?" She heaves a breath. "Every child's cry…every dwarf's whimper…has fed the demon."

"How do we stop it?" Zanrye asked anxiously, his own fear kicking it and making him all the more scared because he was feeling scared within the demon's lair, thus strengthening it.

"More like kill it." Hawke corrected him. He nodded at her.

"By escaping the fade and leading your people against corypheus." Justinia told him. "When you entered the fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you…. Before you do anything else, you must recover it." He arm came up and led Zanrye's eyes to the hissing pools stretched out over a path ahead of them. Zanrye eyed her as wraiths came up alongside each of the glowing orbs she gestured towards. When she finally met his eyes again, her body was fading. "These are your memories, Inquisitor. Retrieve them."

* * *

31 YEARS EARLIER

GREEN DALES (Antivan Territory)

He paced outside of the tent area as he waited to be called in. The man sat under the brightness of the sun but could not feel appreciative of its warmth. He was already sweating as it was. And the screams from inside the tent did nothing to help him. They had only been here for a few months. There were no longstanding structures just yet. He desperately wished there was. He prayed to Sylaise and to Mythal and asked for help. This was a happy time, a sure time, something that shouldn't be fretted over but enjoyed and endured. And yet he couldn't help but to be nervous. Who wouldn't have their nerves rattled by the cries of pain and constant running in and out of the tent from mages and healers.

The man wiped his sweaty brow with a brown hand and waited still. He was told to leave shortly after the worst contractions started. She always did want to be able to focus. The less people, the better it was for her. The easier it would be to endure. But he couldn't stand not knowing. He had to know and to see, even if what he saw horrified and scarred him. Because even as it did, the scarring would be a beautiful web.

One healer walked past him and smiled and he stopped the man with a hand on his arm. He stood about two heads over the healer.

"How are things going?" He asked.

"Everything is progressing fine." The healer said smoothly, almost rehearsed. "We have the opening and the head was breaching it when I left to get more blankets—"

They are both cut off by the sounds of crying that is not from the man's wife. It is an odd, disjointed sound coming from a new being to the world. It is coming from his son. The man did not even ask the healer if he could enter before his feet took him to the entrance of the tent. He saw the peach-skinned baby being wiped by the healers in a green blanket, his wife panting and being patted down with wet cloths.

His hands were numb now but his body did not show it. He took a few tentative steps and saw heads turn towards him, the crying not ceasing. Rista looked up to her husband's face, her eyes tired with dried and drying tears streaming from her eyes.

"Zhen." She smiled at him, reaching out a hand. The man Zhen came to her side and gave her a gently caress as the healers brought the boy back to the mother's arms. Rista was a haggard mess but she shined to Zhen, like the first time he'd seen her. She took the crying bundle and a fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. She gave the baby's head a light kiss, its small fists harmlessly pushing at her face. Zhen looked to his wife and knew that all 30 hours she had suffered had been worth it to her.

"Hold him." She volunteered to her husband who waited for his turn. It was their baby but her labor. When she was finished, he would go. He found that he was holding his breath and reached out his hands to envelope the tiny baby's body. It was weightless and soft. Zhen exhaled softly and ran a finger over the boy's baby-soft skin.

His hair was brown like Zhen's but lighter—honeyed, because of his mother's touch. But it was straight at hers was, but with light waves throughout. He was the color of a pistachio but was tinged with pink and red all around. He never stopped crying, mouth big and full of nothing but gums. Zhen held him and knew that this boy, his son, would mean more to him than anything else in this world ever had or ever would.

Rista's hand reached out to touch his arm and the baby, smiling at the two of them and as she did, the boy's lids sprang up and Zanrye saw the world for the first time—taking a mental snapshot he would never again remember consciously. As he did, Zhen gave a "huh" and smiled at Rista, angling the boy's body to her.

"He has your eyes." Zhen remarked, turning a warm, brown-eyed gaze on his son. Zanrye did not react, could not yet even turn his head properly on command. But his eyes remained big and on his father's, his expression one of astonishment…but never fear.

* * *

PRESENT

FADE

 _"_ _What's going on here!?" His voice was one of indignation. The orb was slapped away and rolled to the side where Zanrye scooped down to pick it up, only to have his left hand burn in response. It glued itself ot his skin and lifted his arm to the ceiling, the power coursing through him and the area around him, before he was engulfed in an explosion of white…_

His memories…that which was stolen from him, not even suppressed. That which he couldn't remember. He'd done as Justinia said and recovered every one. Together, they formed the grisly picture. The Wardens….

Zanrye was numb. He felt the wet feeling in the back of his throat and said nothing while Hawke, Justinia, and Stroud bickered and stated the obvious. He did not want to think quite yet. But he knew he had to. All this….

"You have recovered some of yourself." Justinia said finally. "But now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead." She was gone before Zanrye could catch his breath. And yet the world around him kept on.

"Troubled Hawke?" Stroud's voice was defensive. Hawke's was accusatory.

"Are you trying to reconcile the wardens in that vision?" She asked him, eyes daggers. "It was there actions that caused her death."

"I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before." Stroud retaliated.

"Or they came willingly." Zanrye said softly and now all eyes were on him. His eyes were far away but came to Stroud's. "Like Clarel…."

"We can argue after we escape this place." He said and started their trek ahead, not awaiting any agreements or denials.

"I intend to." Hawke added darkly before following him. Zanrye took position in the back, mind chasing the memories that now filled the holes. Solas stayed behind with him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, for the first time ever posing a question that served no purpose.

"No." Zanrye said truthfully. "But I guess that's the way of things." He thought. "I'm afraid Solas…afraid of a lot right now."

"Fear is a very old emotion." The man replied. "Very strong. It predates every emotion save for perhaps desire." He puts a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Be wary…this Nightmare…will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve. It can be persuasive."

"You just make sure I don't go berserk and we'll be fine." Zanrye tried to joke. Solas's smile calmed him a bit and he could return it. But his frown remained as he looked to the ground. The evidence was irrefutable. The Wardens…caused all of this. Whether by their being manipulated or controlled, they had done this. Corypheus chose them specifically and had used them and now they had caused the death of not only Justinia but hundreds of others—and many more if the Inquisition didn't succeed. To see them holding Justinia…binding her…. He felt his throat tighten as anger and the will to explain it away rose in him, battling each other. He didn't want this. None of it. If they made it out…when they made it out…what would he do? Say? They were planning to do the same thing again tonight, through Clarel—uncontrolled but still willing. What was Zanrye to do with that knowledge?

"We have a visitor."

The voice spoke from the abyss around them. It was worse than even Corypheus's if that were possible and Zanrye's bladder seized up for a second in surprise. He almost stopped in his tracks.

"Some foolish little boy comes for the memories I so kindly took from his shoulders." The Nightmare continued. "You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten." Shades and wraiths came out of the ground before them. Zanrye steeled himself and drew his sword, readying his training. Still the voice came. "You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is ME." Zanrye felt his bones shake at the voice but he silenced his body as best as he could. There was no need for fear. _Adapt, learn, love…survive_. Those were the teachings of Sylaise. He was her champion.

"This way." Solas led them through the misty marshes and islands. Zanrye could not help but stop. He saw another note, and a skeleton with its own token. He took them all to be returned to their rightful places. He could not leave them, unrested and without peace. Still wallowing in the fear after death. He only hoped the same would come to him—if he in fact fell here.

"Look out!" Stroud yelled as a shade sprang from the journal Zanrye touched. Everything was becoming poisonous. On their flank, he saw them: the spiders. Zanrye shuddered, remembering running—and how he hated spiders.

The demons kept coming. Each step produced more. Zanrye fought with Hawke at his side. The rage demon left a fiery trail behind it as it tore through Zanrye and his companions. Then the Nightmare spoke to them all.

"Your Inquisitor is a fraud Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no maker, that all your faith is for naught." The voice came through them.

"Die in the void, demon!" Cassandra yelled. Zanrye turned to her. Cassandra seemed shaken by this place, or perhaps it was by Justinia.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, as they had a moment. She turned her hard eyes to him and they softened a bit.

"I'm alright." She said. "I would rather we leave but I'm alright." Before Zanrye could respond, the voice came through again, figures now rising out of the mist-covered water.

"Greeting Dorian." It said as the shades surrounded them, their claws raking against Zanrye's armor. "It is Dorian, isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father." Zanrye managed to kick one off and stabbed through it as he heard Dorian mutter, "that was rather uncalled for." He turned to him but Dorian seemed fine enough.

"Come on. Double back through the eastern stairs." Hawke said. Zanrye nodded and followed her and the Nightmare came again, accompanied by another horde of demons blocking their ascent.

"Did you think you mattered Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. What makes you think you could kill a God? You're a failure and your family died knowing it. Anders is going to die—your sister is going to die—just like everyone else you've ever cared about." Hawke said nothing. Her face was tight, pinched and she carved them a way through all the demons before them, never stopping, Never looking back to see if they followed, though they did.

Zanrye waited, shaking, running behind Hawke and hoping to get out before the voice came again. Yet it did come again. And it spoke his fears loud for the entire group to hear.

"Ah, and the leader born of fear." The demon's voice was taunting. "Afraid of anything and everything that has to do with change. You will lead these people to their deaths, if they don't kill you first. You couldn't even save your mother, your father, even your friend Ponawen. All those that are left…even your dear sister…you won't be able to save them." Zanrye said nothing but his anger was making his ears hot, the shame coloring his face. "You will end up alone, with the corpses of you allies and swords of your enemies upon you." Zanrye wanted the demon desperately to shut up. He kept trudging forward. "Leader, strategist, lover…you are none of these things. You have failed at them all—and this time will be no different. You're no Inquisitor; just a small boy, with no family, scared of the world." The laughter that followed sent Zanrye over the edge and he stopped and screamed at the nothingness.

"SHUT UP!" He yelled. "SHUT! UP!" His fists shook and he yelled again to release the tension within him, blood hot beneath his skin. He wanted to kill this thing, the filthy beast.

"Zanrye." He felt Solas's hand come to his shoulder blade. He jerked out of his loose grip and fumed but the touch alone told him that he was holding them up. He turned back and saw the awkward faces of his companions.

"Well!?" He asked testily, his lips in a pout, not meeting their eyes as he took lead. No one said anything but he knew what they all were thinking about him. He didn't care. He couldn't contain himself and the soone they got out of here, the better.

* * *

29 YEARS EARLIER

GREEN DALES (Antivan Territory)

The two waited anxiously for the young boy to come to them.

"That's it Zanrye. That's it."

The feet were still wobbly, though the boy'd been walking a year already. But now he was walking a distance. The large giants that were his parents awaited him on the other side of the field as he walked forward with no distractions. His foot wraps protected him from the itchy grass but not his arms. He wanted to stop and look at the itchy grass and the sun that hurt and the giants. But his little feet were always moving. He kept on forward, their cries edging him along.

When he reached them, his feet gave way and he fell into the yellow haired giant who picked him up and planted kisses on him. His back was rubbed by the brown giant. They both gave him the wide-mouthed looks that made him happy to see them and he felt his mouth pulling up in response, showing his teeth and exhibiting joy.

"You did that all by yourself da'len." Rista smoothed his hair and kissed him once more.

"He'll be strong." Zhen smiled. "Our strong boy…."

"Take him inside." Rista moved the toddler to her husband's arms. "I'll finish up out here."

Zhen took the boy and held him up high in the air to see the world as he walked back to their house. Zanrye took it all in—sky, sun, and forest. He felt the heat and smelled the leather. The man below him smelled especially distinct.

They went into the house and Zhen put Zanrye down on his back, smoothing his hair. He brought forth a smooth wooden jar with a cloth opening and fed Zanrye the contents within. As soon as the liquid and meal went down his throat, Zanrye felt the tiredness finally take him.

"Time for you to nap." Zhen declared to him, in words that were gibberish to Zanrye. Still he ate, still he gazed with his grey eyes into his father's brown ones. As his lids became hooded and he fell closer to sleep, Zhen withdrew and kissed him in departure but that was wrong. That was not the way it should go. Zanrye choked out a whine and a sob. Zhen's hand came to rub his belly and his whines became softer but were still there.

"Crybaby." The man laughed. Zanrye did not understand but saw the man lift him out of his small enclosure and take him to the large bed where he laid down and out Zanrye on his chest.

This was right. Zanrye put a thumb into his mouth and let his eyelids droop once more. Zhen stroked his back and hair, humming softly to help his son get to sleep—his crybaby son who wanted to always have someone take his naps with him. And Creators forbid he wake up alone.

Zanrye's eyes closed, fist still firmly planted in his mouth. The warmth of the house was easier on his skin and the rumble of his father's chest worked as a lullaby. He clung comfortingly to the man and finally drifted off, sure he would be there when he next awoke.

* * *

PRESENT

FADE

 _The demon knew they sought escape. It was trying to thwart them. Justinia told them this and she pointed Zanrye to where more of his memories awaited. He picked through them all, tearing down their wraith guardians until he was thrown back into the past._

 _He was climbing, away from the spiders that were chasing him. Away from the destruction and carnage that ensued when the fade sprang to life as the anchor created he massive rift. Justinia stood above him, hand reaching for his. Their hands met and she helped him to the top. And they ran for their lives, towards the only thing in front of them—the portal._

 _"_ _Keep running!"_

 _Her screams stopped him and he saw the fade reach out and take her, grabbing onto her. The Nightmare…the spiders…. He reached for her hand—the holy human that she was—and tried to save her as she had saved him. But as he got close, her face slackened and he knew._

 _"_ _Go." Her words were soft and then her body jerked like a whip away from him and any chance of escape. Zanrye could not move for a moment, horrified and unsure what the hell was going on. And then he was running through the portal before him and met with an eyeful of white._

"It was her." Zanrye said quietly. "They thought…it was Andraste…but it was the Divine." He looked to the spirit woman Justinia whose expression did not change. "You…she…died for me."

"Yes." The spirit looked meek. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you." She morphed from Justinia into a blazing angelic image, looking down upon them from where she floated.

"Are you…her soul? Within the fade?" Zanrye asked, eyes wide. "Or…a memory." He looked to Solas for help. "That lingers on…"

"If that is your story, it is not a bad one." The spirit said.

"But the fact remains that the mortal divine perished because of the Wardens." Hawke's; eyes were on Stroud. "They go too far—and they need to be checked."

"How dare you judge us?" Stroud asked. "Those wardens were under the influence of corypheus."

"I agree with Hawke." Solas said to Zanrye. "They may have served the greater good once, but the Wardens are too dangerous snow."

"They could be useful." Dorian countered. "What if Corypheus conjurs another Blight?"

"But they are a risk." Cassandra's voice spoke reason. She turned to Zanrye. "You should send them away before they cause more trouble."

"Alright." Zanrye spoke over them, crossing his arms. "This debate can wait until we've gotten to safety. For now, let's get to the exit."

"What are you going to do?" Solas pressed.

"It. Can. Wait." Zanrye said to him bluntly and moved up the awaiting ridge. Which was swarming with more spiders.

"The demon has found us." Spirit Justinia said and then disappeared. Zanrye took out his sword and jumped down, his crew behind him.

"Did you think you can face me?" The Nightmare echoed. "I'm your every fear come to life, the veiled hand of Corypheus. The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound through me."

"Ah," Spirit Justinia spoke, "So if we banish you, we banish the demons. Thank you every fear come to life."

They walked on, weaving their way through the fade and picking up the shades and wraiths bound to them with the help of Dorian—their own demon army. The pride demon was seemingly waiting for them. Zanrye swallowed as they came upon it.

"Deny it our fear and it loses!" Solas told them, beginning his incantations.

"For the Inquisition!" Cassandra said and then they were on it. Zanrye flew in and was amazed at the ferocity and ease with which they assaulted the demon. He dodged out of its way as the horde of minion demons behind them, worked like puppets by Dorian, clawed and scratched and beat on the pride demon until he submitted and was sucked back into the fade. Zanrye panted. He'd broken a sweat but had suffered no injuries this entire trip.

"How's your leg?" He asked Cassandra, remembering.

"Better." She said flatly. "Not to be worried about until we get out."

They made their way along the ridge overlooking a great green sea.

"Look," Dorian pointed to the clearly placed graveyard off to the side. Zanrye wanted to walk right past it but already Cassandra stopped at the mention of her name. He went in and looked despite himself: Vivienne—Irrelevance; Varric—Became parents; Dorian—temptation; Cassandra—helplessness; Sera—the nothing; Solas—dies alone; Cole—despair; Blackwall—himself. Zanrye steeled himself before he finally saw his own tombstone: Loses Everything. Zanrye stared at it and knew Dorian was too. Finally, the man turned to him.

"Well," he said. "one of the more reasonable fears that we've seen today hm? Perfectly ambitious actually."

He was trying to make Zanrye feel better but it did work and he was right. Zanrye walked away from the site, letting his comapnions tarry just a while longer. But they had to leave. The Nightmare would be on them soon. And Zanrye had already had enough of this place. What he'd seen with the Wardens, however, made him not want to go back to Adamant. He didn't want ot judge them and deal with everyone's opinons on the matter. But he didn't need a threat here either. What to do?

* * *

28 YEARS EARLiER

GREEN DALES (Antiva Area)

Zanrye sat in the field at three years old. His hair was much wavier as a child and grew upward. He played with his wooden men and women and kept watth over the flowers his father set before him, keeping htem safe within his mouth—the leaves and petals in his stomach for even safer keeping. His bottle sat beside him.

But then there was bad noise. People yelled and there was a hurried effort to move things around. Zanrye saw the flurry from afar, sitting in the field still, eating his flowers, the royal elfroot sustaining him.

Then his mother came, the giantess with fair skin and blonde hair. Zanrye smiled at her and reached out his arms. But her face was not smiling and though he tried to make it smile with his spit-covered hands, Rista would not be moved. In fact, her face was red and her eyes were wet. She kissed him on his cheek and he saw more water leak from her eyes. He was put into a stranger's house with a pale, red head boy who was no more than 11. The boy eyed him and the door, worry on his face. Zanrye knew something was wrong and began to cry so that it would not be wrong any longer. The boy came and picked him up and roughly tried to shush him, his rocking feeling more like bouncing. Zanrye refused but he began to talk in the garbled sentences that he could, asking the boy for "mama" and "baba."

Ponawen could not answer him but instead gave him more toys and played a game where he hid behind his hands and magically appeared. Zanrye liked this game and smiled now, happier. He clapped when Ponawen did it and soon his laughter filled the entire room.

That was when Rista came in to thank Ponawen and his mother for watching over her baby. As she picked up Zanrye to take him back, she spoke words to the woman who volunteered to walk them back home.

"Out of nowhere." Rista said. "Filthy shems…."

"But why would they attack our traders unprovoked?" The woman shook her head. "In Antiva?"

"Pirates." Rista said. "Wanted slaves." She sighed. "His head…he's dead up there now…." Her face was hot and the water came now through closed eyes that were tight.

"Oh Rista." The woman wrapped an arm around his mother and tried to soothe her. Zanrye felt the negativity. He began to cry. Rista shushed him soothingly but even her voice was not the rumble that could really set him at ease. He whimpered even as his tears ceased.

"What'll you do?"

"See if he recovers." Rista said sadly. "If he doesn't…well…" she looks to Zanrye, "WE'll survive of course."

"I'll pray to the Gods for favor." The woman offered.

"Thank you." Rista said. "But…not even a miracle can find him a new brain and put it in his head." She held Zanrye tighter. "He didn't deserve this…neither of them did." She kissed Zanrye's head again and the hot tears hit the top of his forehead.

"Rista…"

"I don't want him to die." Rista broke down finally and the woman took Zanrye from her and wrapped an arm around her, ushering her into the house. Zanrye began to cry again but the woman put him down in his crib and turned back to Rista. Zanrye demanded attention but they had none to give. They had yet to compose themselves to be strong enough to help him.

* * *

PRESENT

FADE

The portal was right before them but in their path was a great behemoth of a monster. Zanrye stared it down, a spider in all respects except color and dimensions. Before their very eyes, it birthed a smaller, spider-legged demon from its mouth, the thing uncurling and standing upright.

Zanrye didn't need to be told.

He leapt into action, Solas's shield coming around him. He charged the demon as smaller spiders and wraiths came out from the surrounding areas to attack them. Zanrye focused all his attention on his duel while his team picked up the others. The Nightmare extension fended him off, its lightning lacing through Zanrye's body and sending him two feet away. Zanrye recovered and rushed it again, this time receiving an arm of fire which he patted out best he could. His armor was fireproof as it was with the shield and reflexive metals.

He would not stop. A wandering shade got him in his side and he doubled over only to have the Nightmare get its claws on his neck. He struggled against it as its nails dug in, lifting him off the ground. The shades kept at him, pummeling his less protected legs.

A cage came out from Dorian and the demon's grip broke from him. Coughing and sputtering, Zanrye tried to catch his breath, rolling away as the demon easily broke free of its confines. He could feel his blood on his hands but it only served to heighten his battle prowess. He rose and then stomped hard, claiming the area around him for several yards. And then he ran back at the monster, sword slicing one of its spidery arms off. It shrieked and teleported like a despair demon and left Zanrye to the two shades in his way. He took them out quickly and headed back to the Nightmare only to be stopped by a spider jumping onto his back and pulling him down.

Zanrye struggled frantically as panic overtook him. He almost screamed. He hated spiders. Suffering only two stabs from its spiked legs, he kicked it off and used his side-dagger and to slice right through its picners. Shuddering, he rose to his feet just as the Nightmare teleported within range. He would end this. No more running.

Zanrye leapt forward and brought his blade through the side of the Nightmare's face. It recoiled and he nearly took a face-full of fire but Solas's shield came up again just in time. Zanrye strafed and plugned his sword into the demon again and again, gaining purchase wherever he could. It swiped out at him and he at it. His team was working tirelessly with a rage demon that appeared and left a trail of smoldering brimstone behind it.

With a final cry, Zanrye brought his blade through the entirety of the Nightmare, taking a chain of lightning to the chest, and it evaporated into its essence. His arms buzzed and his bloodlust pulsed. As his team ran forward, he dropped down to one knee and tried to calm himself before he proceeded.

He followed them after nearly a minute as they ran towards the portal. Cassandra made it and motioned for everyone else. Dorian was next. Then was solas whose hand reached out for Zanrye. But he stopped when Stroud did.

"Hurry." He hissed at Hawke and Stroud but just that second's delay was too much. A claw from the real Nightmare came out and Zanrye had to duck and roll to get out of the way of it. His heart thumped and he looked at the Nightmare now separating him from his team. He swallowed.

"Go." Hawke said, her face resolute. "I'll cover you."

"No!" Zanrye and Stroud said at the same time. Stroud continued, "The Grey Wardens caused this. A Grey warden must—"

"Help the order rebuild." Hawke said testily. "That's your job, not mine." She looked up. "Corypheus is mine…." They would not reach the decision themselves. Zanrye knew it was on him and he only had seconds to make it. He sighed heavily and gave a sound of frustration. He was sick and he was tired. And all he could think about was what he was going to meet on the other side of all of this.

"Inquisitor—"

"Stroud." Zanrye said clearly, looking to the man. "Do your duty…Grey Warden." Hawke started to pipe up but Zanrye raised a hand to silence her.

"It has been an honor." Stroud said, unsheathing his sword and running ahead. "For the Wardens!" And Zanrye watched the only true Warden he'd ever met, uncorrupted and untainted, get the demon's attention as he and Hawke ran for the hills.

* * *

27 YEARS EARLIER

GREEN DALES (Antivan Territory)

The questions started soon after the funeral. Zanrye was old enough now to understand at least the basics—his father, babae was not coming back. And that thought was daunting to him, because he could barely remember what his babae was and yet so clearly remembered what he was. He was but four years old but he already had the feeling of loss.

A man was coming around the house this year, some many months since his father Zhen died. This man's name was Narvez. He helped his mother and sometimes looks after Zanrye for her. Zanrye saw the man who was darker brown than his father, with even darker eyes. He was more of a giant. But he rumbled like his father had. He didn't understand why he rumbled. Did all dad's rumble?

The man left every time he came but he would always want to hold his mother's hand or pick Zanrye up. Zanrye was warmed by this but it also felt funny. It wasn't the same. And he wanted his father back. Why did the Creators take his father away? Why did the humans?

That was what Ponawen, his sometimes babysistter told him. He told him stories and took Zanrye out to the woods to play. When he asked him about his father, Po became awfully quiet and then spoke with a pained expression.

"Your baba is in the fade, with the Creators." Po told him. "He's alright he just…his body was hurt by the humans who lied to him and the other traders. So he can't use it."

"He can use mine." Zanrye volunteered. Po almost smiled.

"No, yours isn't the one right for his soul." He explained. "He needs his own. When people die, they can't really go to another body because that's not the right one."

"But I want him back." Zanrye began to sniffle. Why would no one give him what he wanted.

"He wants to be back too, Rye rye." Po said heavily. "But he can't…we can't always get what we want sometimes."

That same day, Zanrye wandered off while Po was busy talking to some other guys his age. He got lost. And as he did, he started to cry. It was scary, to be alone. One minute, Po was there. The next, he was separated rom Zanrye by what seemed to be hundreds of trees. Po found him in minutes and carried him back to the camp.

"Sissy." He said to the boy.

"I don't want you to leave me." Zanrye cried into his hands. In truth, he didn't. He was scared when he lost Po. He was scared when he lost his father. One moment, he was there. The next….

"I'm not going to leave you." Po said soothingly, laughing at him. "Okay?"

"What if death happens to you?" Zanrye demanded, tears streaming out of his grey eyes and down his face. Po did not answer for a minute and then his voice shook.

"You can't be afraid that it'll happen to everyone at any time." He said slowly.

"But…but it can though right?" Zanrye asked.

"It…." Po sighed and put him down, grabbing his hand instead and they walked. "Yes. But it doesn't happen randomly like how you're thinking. Just because I'm gone doesn't mean I'm gone forever. Same with everyone else."

"But baba…"

"He's gone because he was taken." Po said. "We lost him because the sh—the humans took him from us."

"They could take mama…and me…and you." Zanrye was crying again. And Ponawen didn't really know what to say. So he said nothing.

* * *

PRESENT

ADAMANT FORTRESS

They were jettisoned back into reality to the roar of the Wardens and the soldiers of the Inquisition. Zanrye fell on all fours and slowly rose up, shaking. The damage was more gruesome than he could feel at that moment.

"She was right." Hawke said, coming forward. "Without the nightmare to control them, Corypheus loses his demon army. The mages are free." She sighs, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Though as far as they're concerned, the Inquisitor did it with the blessing of the Maker." It was a lie if there ever was one so large. But Zanrye was too numb to care.

"They're alive. As far as I'm concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like." He said.

"They won't be the last." Hawke said. "You're a big legend now…hope you live up to it." The scout came up to him before he could get his bearings.

"The archdemon flew off when you arrived." He said. "And the venatori magister is unconscious but alive." Zanrye felt a twang of anger. "Cullen thought you'd want to deal with him yourself. As for the wardens…those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons." A lieutenant stepped forward and saluted.

"We stand ready to make up for Clarel's tragic mistake, Your Worship." The words felt empty and flat to Zanrye even though he knew the man meant them. He looked around. "Where is Stroud?" There was a silence and Hawke looked away, eyes sad.

"Stroud gave his life to strike a blow against a servant of the Blight." Zanrye said firmly. "And to save us." He sighed. "He was a true Warden…like the ones of old…" His voice was hard, "unlike all you fuck-ups." There was an awkward silence following his statement. He cleared his throat. "But I will honor his sacrifice and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens."

"But…we…have no one left of significant rank." The Warden stuttered. "What are we going to do now?"

Zanrye thought as he looked at the man and Hawke and the faces around him. What were they going to do? He knew what he felt in his gut but also knew he had to think with his head. Because like it or not, the wardens were as big of a risk as they were a help.

"Inquisitor."

"You're going to have to leave." Zanrye said slowly. There was a collective tension that rose from the crowd as he made his judgements. "The unfortunate truth…is that you are all still vulnerable to Corypheus even now. You are a risk, and there were seldom few of you who could actually withstand the calling or the cull of the magister." He paused. "I know all the stories. And I know what a great asset you all are but while Corypheus lives, you cannot stay. Without Stroud to guide you…leaving the Wardens unchecked is a risk I'm not willing to take. So…" He rose up straighter. "By the order of the Inquisition, you are all hereby banished from Southern Thedas. Whereupon Corypheus's death, then and only then may you return. If the Inquisition fails, you will never be able to set foot in this part of the world again." There are murmurs but he ignores them. "Hawke will oversee your return to your foretress at Weisshaupt." The look on Hawke's face nearly made Zanrye break but he didn't. He kept firm.

"Yes your worship." The Warden said quietly.

"Your worship…I would stay…if you allow it." Blackwall said from the ranks of men. Zanrye made eye contact with him.

"You have proven time and again that you, like Stroud, can resist where the many could not." Zanrye said. "Of course you can stay Blackwall."

The Wardens began to quietly file out. Hawke watched them go, her face unreadable. She turned to Zanrye and inhaled slowly.

"I wish you luck Inquisitor." She said.

"Same to you." He told her. "I wish you could stay. Be nice to have you at my side but…."

"Someone needs to babysit the wardens." Hawke finished for him. "And…I have other matters…I've helped all I can…until we have Corypheus in a hole again." She paused, voice becoming low as she spoke. "Wait for a raven from me Inquisitor…." Her voice rose again. "And take care of Varric for me."

With that, she turned her back and Zanrye watched her walk away with the Wardens in towe. Solas came behind him and Dorian did as well.

"You should have banished them truly." Solas said.

"And what?" Dorian shot back. "Be vulnerable to another Blight if it happens?" He turned to Zanrye. "A bit of a fency decision but…

"At least we have them if we need them." Zanrye said. "But I can't risk Corypheus getting the advantage on us, especially not through people as powerful as the wardens."

"Unless we won't have them." Dorian said. "They won't be able to help against Corypheus except as fugitives and apostates Inquisitor."

"It's time to head back." Cassandra's voice was hard and the two men backed off of Zanrye. He walked with her in silence to the awaiting horses, the bruises on his back and punctures in his neck beginning to pain him. Finally she spoke. "I think you made the best decision given the circumstances."

"Even though we could die without them and even die with them as well?" Zanrye asked her.

"Exactly because of that." She said. "You did the best you could—removed the growth of corruption. I only fear what they may hatch at their fortress without Stroud…." She paused. "Perhaps in their…redemption…no matter how small…they will come to serve a better purpose than they did before." Zanrye eyed her knowingly.

"You're talking of the seekers, not the wardens." He said to her. Cassandra did not respond but instead got onto the horses as they reached them. He struggled onto his.

"Whatever comes next, we will face it together." She promised him. He reached out and clasped hands with her.

"Thank you." He said. "I know…."

With that, they assembled with the troops and began home, leaving the majority of the cleanup to Cullen and the rest.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

STORY

Wardens are banished for the remainder of time that Corypheus lives. I wanted this to be an option so I made it an option. Zanrye returns to Skyhold.

SIDEPLOT

Remember, he is amassing an elven refugee type camp near the mountains, some that are known most that are not. He struck a deal with Gaspard. He sent Tiana to work under Briala. And he has invited Lana and tried to invite Nishia to lead his side army.

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

Zanrye's father was ambushed and knocked into a coma when he was three and died by the time Zanrye was four. Later that year, his mother and Narvez began to work together. A year later, they got together and had Mima.

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Zhen- (man, deceased) father

Rista- (woman, deceased) mother

Narvez- (man, deceased) step-father


	20. Mourning After

[WARNING: Chapter contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity]

* * *

SKYHOLD

Zanrye laid in bed, watching the birds before his window. A book was beside him and he found himself reading various tales from different reavers throughout history. It had been three days since Adamant. He was healing fast, suffering injuries to his back thigh and ankle he hadn't been aware of. That along with the scratches to his neck and the bruises to the entirety of his back had him happy to lie down and do nothing.

Josephine handled affairs for him in his stead. All except his private ones, which Lana took care of. He had yet to see to the troops after the battle and knew a week could not pass with that unattended. And yet still he did not move. Today was a beautiful day but he felt content to just look out upon it. He and the rest of Skyhold were somber after what happened at Adamant; for Stroud's death…Clarel's…and the exile of the Wardens, even if it were just temporary.

Josephine was in here with him now, acting as a nurse. She came every few hours with tea and updates as well as questions as to his health. She'd nearly blown her top when she saw his neck and he hand't realized just how badly the monster had gouged it. Two sizable holes were there and at third, though shallow, had skin peeling from it where the claws were savagely removed. That side was bandaged now.

Josephine came to him again this hour as she had before and smiled at him as she sat on the edge of his bed, refilling his water. Zanrye stretched and sat up in bed.

"Did you know," he asked her as she set down the tea and herbs as well, "that Kolgrim was a reaver? That cult leader? Here in Haven?"

"Before he was killed by the Hero of Ferelden yes." Josephine handed him the cup. Zanrye took a sip and shook his head.

"So was that mercenary from Nevarra—worked with Cassandra she says." Zanrye said to her, putting down the cup. Josephine eyed him and smoothed back his hair.

"I am not going to condone your choice to drink dragon blood and slaughter all of your enemies." Josephine said flatly. "Certainly not when you could have become a champion—"

"I am a champion to Sylaise alone." He reminded her.

"Could you not be a champion of justice as well?" She shot back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged onto her. He'd done that at least once every day for the past three days. It was nice, comforting. To have her in his arms after what he endured….

The feeling in Skyhold was solemn and foreboding. After the fade, his team needed to recuperate. He needed to recuperate. He lost the will to go out and do, instead resigning himself to his bed where he would try his best not to contemplate the fears and the memories. Frequently, he had nightmares and only with Solas's help could he walk in the fade at night. When Solas himself was gone, they returned.

He knew he was not the only one experiencing this. And when Josephine came to him, it was a break from his own thoughts. That was why he read read and kept his mind preoccupied even if his body would not necessarily rise on schedule. And sometimes she would work in the room and he would gaze at her and read aloud, surprised it did not distract her. She really was a professional at management.

"Are you thinking of getting up today?" Josephine asked him after he'd hugged her for some time. Zanrye shook his head into her side and felt her laugh. "You must, Zanrye. There are duties that even I cannot manage. Things that need your attention in particular."

Zanrye groaned and laid back now, looking directly at her. Her hair was down today, long and reaching the end of her shoulder blades. She braided the sides back as a type of crown. She looked beautiful.

"I suppose I will." He said after a time.

"The healers say that your injuries should not pain you too much to deter you from activity." She said, hand coming gently to his neck. "Though I would take care with this…." She sighed. "If it had been only an inch more to the left…."

"Thank Creators it wasn't." Zanrye said, smiling softly at her and taking her hand in his. She leaned down to kiss him and then released him, standing.

"I will leave you to dress." She said. "And I will have a scout ready to escort you just in case."

"You don't want to stay?" He asked her, teasing in his voice. She shook her head and made her way down the stairs. He sighed, rose up with protests from his aching back and legs, and stood, heading for his armoire.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He knew where his first stop should be and snuck into the lower room where Cassandra always hid out. Sure enough, the Seeker and his second was there, hovered over the large tome from Lucius. He approached her slowly, her face clouded.

"Cassandra," he greeted her. She looked up, her face drained. "Bad reading…?"

"On the contrary." She said in a hollow voice. "It's a delight." He paused, eyeing her for a moment before surprise settled.

"Oh." He said slowly. "You're…joking?" She sighed and he took another step forward and pulled up a chair, sitting across from her. "What have you found Cassandra?"

"The Rite of Tranquility leaves the victims devoid of dreams and emotions." Cassandra said slowly. "It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities…but that has not always been the case."

"Is that what…the book told you?" He asked.

"No." Her voice was so soft it scared him. "As a Seeker I looked into…Mages made tranquil as punishment…." She looked him in the face. "Inquisitor…what finally began the mage rebellion was the discovery that tranquility could in fact be reversed. The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up harsly and there were…deaths." She looked around the room, as if seeking something. "The shock of its discovery, coupled by what happened at Kirkwall…." She sighed and placed a hand on the book. "But we have always known how to reverse the rite apparently." Zanrye understood.

"So the seekers essentially caused the rebellion." He said limply. Cassandra nodded.

"Another crime." She said. "We created the rite of tranquility." She paused. "Do you remember when I told you of my vigil, months I spent dispelling myself of all emotion?" Zanrye nodded. "I was being made Tranquil Zanrye, though I did not know. Then the spirit of faith came to touch my mind…. That broke the tranquility and gave me my abilities." She stood and turned to the window, leaving Zanrye shocked and horrified—almost pitying but he knew she wanted no such thing. "There's…more. Lucius was not wrong about the order." She looks out and Zanrye slowly stands. "I thought to rebuild them…once victory was ours. But now I'm not so sure."

"There's more to this…" Zanrye asked, walking around the table.

"At some point, power becomes its own master." She said. "When we cast aside ideals in favor of expedience and tell ourselves that it was all for the people. It was necessary." She looks him in the eyes. "Will that happen to us Inquisitor? Will we repeat history?"

"We aren't the seekers." He said firmly.

"I wonder how much we resemble what they used to be." Cassandra said softly. Her words hit him hard and he looked down at the table for a moment, his own machinations coming to mind… the wardens coming to mind.

"I don't think I've seen anything make you this unsteady before." He offered. "You're afraid."

"What if the seekers were never doing the makers work." She said. "The Inquisition came to be during a terrible time. But then we harbored secrets and let them fester." Zanrye squirmed. "We lived to survive and not to serve."

"That was the seekers of old then." Zanrye said, suddenly indignant. "What about now? What about here? We are only doomed to repeat the past if we ignore it." He thought. "I'm not going to sit by and let things fall where they may…and neither will you, if I have you pinned down right." That made Cassandra scoff with a small smile.

"There are limitations to everything." She said. "Only so much redemption can be had, for all of us. With the wardens…." She was quiet. "I feel we made the right choice, though not an absolute one. But there are consequences for everyone, including us. As for the Seekers…."

"What would you do differently then Cassandra?" Zanrye asked almost impatient. "To fix this, to fix the seekers? To fix the world?"

"I can't be the only one remaining." She said. "We were always everywhere we could be needed. There are others out there. I would need to gather them, and we'd all read this book, then together we could establish a new charter and truly begin to do the Maker's work."

"And if you would be going against the chantry or against others who think they're doing the maker's work as well?" He asked. "Just like when you started this Inquisition."

"There is no way to know for certain the Maker's true will." Cassandra said, her voice full of determination. "That is why we must seek it out. I believe, that we truly lost our way, when we stopped looking." Zanrye pondered her words and her goals, echoing his own as he built up forces only a few clicks south of them and at the same time made back deals with humans. Nishia's warnings echoed through his mind: _no exceptions_. The seekers had made exceptions… and look where they had turned out.

But today was different. It was in fact a new day, one where old mistakes came to the light and the world was now on the brink of failure if it did not change. And with that change, anything could happen—anything could die or be created.

"It's your decision, Cassandra." He said. "And there are many other things to consider…but if anyone can rebuild the seekers into something worthwhile, it's you. And I won't tell you not to." He leaned forward. "But if you do choose to…know that it'll be a hard road…and that though they'll need you…so will I." She turns back. "So will the Inquisition. And…and I think apart from redemption, you need to think about whether or not they have a place in this new world."

She said nothing and slowly turned to walk back to him.

"Thank you." She said. "I…could not have gotten this far without your help."

"And you've even farther to go." He replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I will think on this." She said as he released, making her way slowly back to her seat. Her face was clouded and Zanrye wished he could say something more. But he wasn't going to make her decision for her. Nor was he going to lie to her. He believed in her—but it would be hard. And she had to decide if they were worth that effort.

Silently, he turned and made his way out of the room and onto his next appointment where hopefully no one else would see him

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He mounted a horse and rode from Skyhold out to the log cabin where seven mages and seven trusted soldiers to Lana were guarding it. Spells prevents entering or exiting from a certain mile radius. Zanrye stopped outside and walked through the enchantments.

"Inquisitor." Two soldiers bowed their heads and the mages all did the same. Zanrye nodded to them all, elves the whole lot of them. He walked past them and into the cabin. It was cozy and more spacious than it appeared and Gaspard, in lightweight training chain-mail looked as though he had just stopped training exercises and was looking over a series of maps.

"Duke." Zanrye greeted him, walking into the room. He wasn't wearing armor exactly but he kept his sword on him at all times. He was not allies with the Duke, no matter what the man may believe. And Gaspard was a tricky one like all the other Orlesians.

"Ah Inquisitor." Gaspard said, looking up. Without the mask, the man had blue eyes that spoke of battles of the past and battles on the horizon. He was a short man but muscled to the point of bulkiness and taught flesh. "I was wondering when you would come to see me."

"How's training been going?" Zanrye asked him casually, coming beside him as Gaspard took a drink of ale.

"Very good." He said. "I have been looking over these maps you've sent to my big prison here and I've begun to devise potential invasion routes—"

"You think this is a prison?" Zanrye scoffed, standing beside him and looking down at the array of arrows and lines drawn onto the maps.

"It is a big prison but a prison nonetheless." Gaspard said. "You constantly have guards over me and limit the distance I may travel. But," the man shrugged, "it is a smart thing all things considered. A martial strategy. That, I can respect."

"I just don't want you running away because you don't trust me." Zanrye said smoothly. "I know I haven't given you that much proof of my sincerity yet and I would put it past your abilities to get away if not for all my precautions."

"You flatter me." Gaspard chortled. "And you also belittle yourself, Inquisitor." The man levels him with eyes that spoke of his approval of Zanrye's tactics. "You have done much to warrant my trust: spare my sister, plant spies in Orlais, allow me to train and give me access to maps of the outside world that match my last up-to-date knowledge from before I was put here. You even saved my life to begin with. And all of that is what makes me mistrustful of you." At Zanrye's arched brow, the man continues, "I hate the game but I know it well. You are playing one and are receiving nothing back from me as of yet. But you give much."

"On the contrary." Zanrye said. "I'm getting quite a bit back from you already. By keeping you here, I have all your loyalists at my disposal and you're like an investment—in the end, you'll do just as much for me as I'm doing for you."

"Delayed gratification then?" Gaspard grunted. "Perhaps."

"More than." Zanrye said, walking around the cabin now. "But we can delay our reasons for trusting or not trusting each other for later." He turns to the Duke from the kitchen area. "Let's talk about Orlais. You can show me the invasion once we deal with my own demands."

"As you wish." Gaspard said. "But come…let's at least do something more productive than talk." He gestures. "Outside, if you will. You won't need your sword either."

He wanted to spar. Zanrye followed him, not leaving his blade. Gaspard and he walked past the mages and soldiers, whom he told to stand down. He led Gaspard to the clearing near the path, overlooking the mountain range where only a few miles separated Gaspard from the camps. Those would be his next clients soon.

"You are wary." Gaspard said. "You should not be." He is referencing Zanrye's sword which Zanrye slowly takes off and lowers to the ground. "You have no reason to fear an unarmed man Inquisitor. And certainly not one such as I."

He circles Zanrye, sizing him up. Zanrye circles him right back. Gaspard fakes him out once and then they resume their steps, eyes never leaving the other's body. Zanrye watches for any sign of treachery, unsure if he should spar when he's in such a state still, body still healing. But his guards were not far….

Gaspard came at him with a swing of his fist and Zanrye blocked him and reached out with a punch of his own which Gaspard grabbed and twisted Zanrye around, kicking him right in the tailbone and away from him. He was good and the kick sent pain through Zanrye's entire midriff. Zanrye had never been the best with hand to hand though he was certainly strong enough to defend himself.

"You are weak, Inquisitor." Gaspard said. "And you do not take this seriously. That should not be how we take Orlais's throne."

Zanrye turned back to the man and righted himself, flexing his wings and getting back into a defensive stance.

"It won't be." Zanrye said, aiming a jab. "I already have plans in motion but the only thing I would have from you is your word once I get you there." Gaspard's hand hit his ribs but he managed to skim the Duke's chin. "The alienages…I want them gone. Equal rights for elves…I want that to be a thing. I want more than one elven Marquise."

"Many demands." Gaspard dodged an incoming high strike. "You wish for the entire culture to change just like that?"

"Not the culture, the law." Zanrye said flatly, turning to strafe to the right and elbow the Duke. "I want elves to have opportunities and spaces within Orlais not as servants. And that 'servants as property' bullshit will have to go too."

"And what will ensure my doing this once I have the throne?" Gaspard asked.

"I'm hoping friendship." Zanrye said as the Duke got him in the gut. He backtracked, wheezing. "But if not…I have Briala and I have enough blackmail on you to replace you and Celene with whomever I wish." He pants and moves back as Gaspard comes for another. He was bluffing about being able to replace him with anyone, but not about the blackmail. "But I don't want a puppet…. I want someone who can make things happen—like I've said before. I think you're the—man for the job." He had to dodge and brought the back of his hand to Gaspard's collar, sending the man away.

"Maybe…." Gaspard said slowly, rubbing where he was hit.

"You don't hate elves." Zanrye said simply, now winded. "That's clear. You care about upholding traditions…and always showing yourself to be a powerful nation." He barely dodged Gaspard's grapple. "But…I want you to think of a new generation…with the possibility for an even more powerful nation than ever before. Strong and solidified with allies from the elven populace around you rather than an oppressed group that sits like a bomb, just waiting to revolt. And now an even more powerful populace thanks to me—"

He does not get out of the way of Gaspard's punch and he takes it to the side. It is swiftly followed by an uppercut and another punch and Gaspard hooks his leg with Zanrye's and sends him onto his back. Zanrye pants as the man nimbly skiffs away, grabs Zanrye's greatsword, and swings it just a few inches shy of Zanrye's unarmored chest. Zanrye breathes heavy, his eyes angry but suspicious as well. The Duke pants above him, holding the blade.

"You're not far off." Gaspard said bluntly. "Orlais matters most to me…and I can see that you have that same pride in the Dalish and non-Dalish alike." He plants the sword in the dirt beside Zanrye and offers him a hand. Zanrye takes it slowly and is pulled to his feet. Gaspard stands a head shorter than him but looks him straight in the eye. "A gesture of goodwill, your worship. I did not lie to you. You need not bring your sword when you face me." He almost smiled. "You are a surprising man…but by now I suppose I should expect no less from you." He crosses his arms. "I will work to help you with your goals…even I can see the value in the elves who wash my chamberpots." He is strangely not antagonistic even as he says this. "They are not the enemy…merely an obstacle. But if we are to work together…they do not have to be." He looks fiercely at Zanrye who knows now that he has won the man over. He's done it. By Mythal and Sylaise and all the creators, he'd done it finally.

"Well." Zanrye exhaled and uprooted his sword. "You were speaking of invasion plans earlier?" Gaspard nodded and the two headed back to the cabin to look them over.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He left the Duke with a little more daylight to spare. He galloped instead down the path through the ridges to where he instantly saw posts where runes had been placed and drawn into the dirt—protective barriers. They had already set up he saw.

He passed through them and was greeted by a sight so much like home that he felt a smarting in the back of his throat and the tip of his nose. Guards were at the entrance and a sea of tents were set up everywhere. Foliage was all around but had been tended where the campsite was. He spotted a few hallas and a few house frames for permanent settlements. Elves of all shapes and heights were before his eyes, walking to and fro: women, men, children, mages. Some with bows, some with swords, others with staffs and daggers and curiously axes. He saw a large tent near the back center and decided that was sure to be Lana's tent of operations and talks. He nodded to the soldiers who instantly put hands to their chests in greeting.

"The Inquisitor!" One cried and Zanrye felt all eyes on him as people parted to let his mount past. It almost felt like when he'd first come to the Inquisition and walked through the line of people all whispering of his heroics by the spirit Andraste's blessing. But it was different than that because this was most welcome. Zanrye felt himself resisting the urge to smile at his people, his union of tribes that would make up his valley and the world. They would be bound by being Dalish, marked or not, first and foremost.

Lana came out of the tent before he could reach it and she smiled at him. Adorning keeper robes, she looked fiercer than before and cut her hair above her shoulders. She had furs on her shoulder pads and walks with swagger for having to organize these people for the past month basically on her own. Zanrye smiled at her and got down from his mount, a scout ready to take the reigns from him. He smelled flowers and stews all around him. Children ogled.

"Quite an entrance." Lana smirked.

"I told you I was coming today." He shrugged.

"Liar." She shook her head. "You said within the week. But come." She walked him through the smorgasburg of tents and pointed here and there. "We have enough food and rations and with all the untouched game, we'll have plenty more. The neighboring cities provide us with all else. We have a lot more available land but I may need more mages to protect the areas if we start expanding too rapidly. Refugees arrive everyday, hearing the news."

"Has anyone bothered you?" He asked her as they made their way past a band of healers mixing up different herbs. He saw a firebomb being made ironically.

"No, not yet at least." She said. "The five known clans report to your ambassador every now and again. We have nearly a thousand bodies, five hundred that are already battle-trained in some capacity and another two hundred green but more than ready to serve."

"And the others?" He asked.

"About 170-180 children." Lana said. "And all the rest are healers or crafters so they are useful as well. They keep us operational and mend everything. You've already seen some of them."

"How many of the children are younger than the age for vallaslin?" He asked.

"Nearly 100." Lana admitted, sighing. "But within a year or two, we should have another hundred adults added to the clan."

"Good…" Zanrye was doing the figures in his head, wishing Josephine was here to calculate for him. Or better yet Nishia. Too bad…. "Have you heard word from our clan?" He asked her as she led him up the back hill to where a plateau was.

"Not too often but they sent one letter saying that most danger had passed and they were alright." Lana said. "Then again, Keeper might not want me to come running back, as if I could."

"I'll reach out to them." Zanrye decided. "See if there's anything amiss."

"Here…is the training grounds." She said. They climbed to the flat slab of rock and he saw military commanding tidy enough to rival Cullen's instruction. Well over a hundred soldiers with sword were working on different formations under a designated commander. Farther off, he heard the flurry of arrows release from taught bows and watched them as they flew towards targets by the 20s. He exhaled, astounded. The sight of them working underneath the pale sky, getting ready to be his army…. The army of the Creators…the new Arlathan….

"And the assassins." Lana said. "Very good. Most are learning disappearance quickly. Our crafters can't make the vanishing bottles fast enough." She grins. "And of course the mages. Best for last."

Zanrye couldn't roll his eyes at her, following her to a deeper part of the forest.

"Why so far?" He asked.

"So we can dispel magic anywhere near their camp so that they aren't tracked by any Templars around and so that they can be in a place where we can perform an eradication when training is over so demons don't converge around one place." Lana explained this as if it were common knowledge. Zanrye certainly didn't know that much. He followed her to a brilliant array of greens, blues, and reds as all number of elements left the hands of the mages and were jettisoned into the air. They practiced defensive measures as well as offense. Four corners seemed to represent four different types.

The upper left housed the fire and water/ice manipulators who created brilliant fireballs and circles only to have the water-bearers extinguish it and shot out icy shards this and that away.

The upper right had the earth vibrating and flowers blooming and receding sporadically at will. Cages of rock encompassed those who were the volunteered guinea pigs.

The lower left was where spirit mages and time manipulation seemed to be going on. Mages appeared somewhere seconds too fast, they were caged, and shields were rife, alongside bursts of electricity and orbs attacking harmlessly.

The lower right and closest to them was the necromancers who operated on dead animals raising them and killing them just as quickly. They also seemed to be using blood magic that Zanrye was familiar with but he felt a bit uneasy after what he'd seen these past months with the Inquisition. But still, they were professionals, and under Lana's guidance would prevail—being a necromancer herself.

"They're some of the best I've ever seen or trained, if I do say so myself." She smiled at him. "Though they are the first I've trained in any capacity." She shrugged. "Lopas and Tila are also helping me with the magical matters I'm not too well versed in as well. I mean, did you see all that spirit damage? Well, we can't see it of course, because the shields…but you know what I mean."

"Yeah." Zanrye smiled at her. "I do." He inhaled deep. "It's happening Lana."

"I never thought it'd come this quickly." Lana admitted. "Nearly a thousand people with more coming everyday. Within the year, we'll have 1,000 warriors easily. Ready to take on this demon and anyone else."

"Not enough." Zanrye reminded her. "But something."

"I can see us becoming legion." Lana said, looking over at her creations with all the pride of someone who just invented something that would save the world.

"And this could have never happened without you." He said to her. "This is your territory. You are leading our people."

"As are you." She smiled. "Having you as the Inquisitor and having them know of your, an elf's, miracles like this…it makes it easy to motivate them into action. Your life serves as a symbol to them all. To us all. And now that they've seen you today in the flesh, they'll want to throw a feast." She smiled. "There'll be dancing."

"I can't tarry to too long into the night here." Zanrye said to her regrettably. "But soon."

"Then they will feast without you, to your victory at Adamant." Lana shrugged. "We heard you won but because we had not seen you alive—"

"And now they have proof." Zanrye finished.

"Exactly." Lana said. "And sometimes that's all that's required."

"Sometimes." Zanrye agreed, eyes back on the mages and then, as they walked back, back on the settlement itself. Everything was becoming a reality. All of his dreams, everything he had previously envisioned was coming into being, as if by magic. _The ability to adapt, survive, create…_. He knew this was a blessing in some way, that he was truly following Sylaise's path.

He did tarry just a bit there long enough to stand before a large enough mass of people and give thanks to the Creators for this opportunity, finishing with his own special thanks to Sylaise, who guided him here. As he rode back to Skyhold, the image of the hundred elf army's proud and loyal eyes on him burned itself into his brain and lifted his heart all the way home.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

His return to Skyhold was met by Dorian. Through the gates and up to his office, Dorian was waiting for him, watching a raven with a stripe on it which squawked at him every time he tried to pet it.

"Feisty thing isn't it?" Dorian asked him as Zanrye walked into the room.

"It has a message to protect." Zanrye chuckled and put his hand up to the bird. It flew to him and he took the message off of its leg and carried it to a bowl of food and water. The bird lounged and Zanrye read the message. It was from Tiana and she was giving her report. She was returning for more instruction. That meant that she had successfully implanted herself into the elven spies' network and had eyes on Celene now and access to her documents via Briala's "blessing" unknowingly given.

"Been going through the events in my head." Dorian said, speaking of Adamant and the fade.

"I've been meaning to check on everyone." Zanrye said, his eyes now on the man. "Did you… have you suffered since?"

"It feels like a funeral here but apart from that, I don't have much scarring." Dorian said lightly but his eyes were far off. "But afterward…what happened to the wardens…."

Zanrye groaned and went to his desk where more mail was awaiting him. He sat and took the rolls one by one, looking at who it was that sent him messages.

"Dorian, I couldn't allow them to stay—"

"You allowed Cole." Dorian reminded him. "And a magister's son…Hawke, who runs with a possessed man…." He crossed his arms.

"The Wardens caused all this and exile is better than what could be done to them if Orlais or even Ferelden got their hands on them." Zanrye said. "And it's not forever—"

"I know." Dorian said, sitting before him. "I'm mostly playing demon's advocate…." He eyed Zanrye for a time before he continued, "I guess I just want to say…" he thought for a longer time before he sighed, "I guess I was wondering if we could go and get a drink." Zanrye stared at him for a time and then laced his fingers under his chin, elbows on the desk.

"What're you trying to drink away Dorian?" He asked, eyes hard. Dorian didn't answer at first and then the shadow came over his face finally.

"Just been thinking…about judgement." Dorian finally admitted. "About Felix…Alexius… Florianne…now the Wardens. Even me."

"What do you need judgment for?" Zanrye asked him.

"What don't I?" Dorian replied. "Abandoning my home, joining with a rogue Inquisition, killing more people now than I ever thought I would." His eyes met Zanrye again. "Did you expect to have killed this many people by now? How do you deal with that?"

The question jarred Zanrye. He stared at the man who had just killed at least a dozen wardens, men and women charged with stopping the blight, and still other venatori at the Winter Palace and others at the approach. All in self defense but….

Still people.

Zanrye couldn't answer for a minute, thinking back on all he killed at the Hinterlands, and the Storm Coast, and at Adamant. It had to be over one hundred by now, maybe near three. And even before that, he had killed near 30 shems with his torture band, and a few others who came too close to his territory or threatened his clan.

And yet the only deaths he'd ever felt, even regretted, were the deaths at Adamant—just as Dorian now did. And why were their deaths different than all the others? Why did even exile (no matter the time period) feel like a death blow? And why did it leave him and Skyhold feeling solemn and guilty?

"I don't know, Zanrye." Dorian sighed, sitting back when Zanrye wasn't forthcoming. "There's just so much wrong right now…that existed even before Corypheus threatened us." He sighs. "I've been talking to Solas too much, damned higher-than-though apostate." He sighed. "But some of what he says…about Tevinter…things I wouldn't even bat an eyelash about." He sighs and leans back even farther.

"I think…that we can't get stuck on who is deserving of redemption or a pass." Zanrye said slowly. "Because none of us are. Not me, not you, not anyone. Not even this Inquisition." He thinks to his army hidden from all and to Po, now dead in the ground…his father…his step-father. He sighed. "What we have to focus on is how to make the best out of this crisis. And try to do better."

"And why are we worthy to do it?" Dorian asked.

"I guess it's not about being worthy." Zanrye said slowly. "But about being the only ones who can…precisely because…we're not stuck to a larger power."

That seemed to be the answer Dorian was searching for and he nodded at him approvingly.

"And that is why I keep getting caught up in the idea of being able to banish the wardens." Dorian said. "They were not stuck to any boarders. Banish them…an entire organization…who we still need and are only slightly more vulnerable than the mages…. Not judging one person or place but condemning an entire group…." Dorian sighed. "I think I just need a drink."

"No you don't." Zanrye said softly. "But you're not wrong. We don't have the right to judge. But we have the right to change things and we're making calls that unfortunately the world will have to live with. But those same calls are the ones to try and save the world so that we can still work with it—rather than sacrificing it to Corypheus."

Dorian marinated on that and it seemed to make him feel a bit better. Zanrye didn't know what to say. He would never feel alright with barring the heroes of his youth but he had done it and he did indeed feel safer for it. The difference between the Wardens and all those he killed before were that they hadn't had his downfall in mind, personally or via the exploitation and abuse of his people. They were tricked, duped. They went to Corypheus's pawn not out of selfishness—even as Alexius had—but they went to make a sacrifice.

But that was in fact what everyone must do today, but they must make the right one. That's what Zanrye would do. That's what the Inquisition would do. He looked down at the scrolls again and then saw one addressed from Weisshaupt as though it was a sign sent from the Gods. He opened it as Dorian chewed on the information they exchanged and saw that it was from Hawke.

 _Inquisitor,_

 _I will not remain at Weisshaupt but I have an ally who will. The Wardens need a leader and Stroud was a master to my sister. I have kept her safe, away from all the fighting and safe from the calling. But I've told her of the situation. And she wants to help the Wardens herself. I know they are upset at your decision. They think it a betrayal. And it can be seen that way. But, if she manages to get to a leadership role, the Wardens may return when called upon, if and when we defeat Corypheus._

 _I'll tell you more when I know more_

 _Luck,_

 _Seras Hawke_

Zanrye exhaled and smiled at the paper. Dorian eyed him, waiting. Zarnye chuckled lightly and looked outside. The sun was beginning to set. He turned to Dorian.

"You know what?" He said. "Let's go get one—only one. Go outside, play some chess." He stood and Dorian, surprised, followed him numbly.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Nothing. But I think you're right." Zanrye smiled at him. "A drink is what we need right now." He led the man down the stairs. "I heard from Cullen that you cheat."

"I do not." Dorian objected. "I just give myself an edge."

"Right." Zarnye smiled. "So you cheat. It's alright." He smiled. "If I suspect foul play, I cheat right back."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

The sun went down finally and all was quiet in the castle. Candles lit Zanrye's room as he found himself back there, setting up his bed. He knew he should convene the war council soon and see how to go about legitimizing the temporary exile of the wardens.

Movement to his left made him look up and he saw Josephine gliding into the room. She was dressed lighter now and he saw her cape hid an overdress under which he saw the hem of her presumed sleeping gown. She had been getting ready for bed too.

"I wanted to come to make sure you were settling alright." She said, standing at the top of the stairs. She had done so the three nights before. "You ventured out today. Good job, darling."

"It went fine." Zanrye said. "I'm glad I did. I'll probably convene the war council tomorrow now…get things back on track." He looked at her. "We don't have much time to waste…."

He trailed off, eyeing her stance. She had a mug of no doubt chocolate and walked over to where he stood making his bed. She set it down where she usually did but Zanrye placed a soft hand on her arm to delay her. A tenderness was in his touch.

"Why…how about…stay." He said to her, voice soft. Josephine locked eyes with him and he gave her a soft expression. "Stay for a while…."

"I couldn't." Josephine said. "You need to rest, darling…."

"I would rest." Zanrye said, eyes bright, hand slightly more firm at her side. "If you were here…." He smiles. "You help my nightmares…and I want…to spend more time with you."

Josephine cannot help but grin. That is all he needs. Zanrye pulls her cape off tentatively and she allows him. He goes to hang it up and does not get to see her take off her overdress (sly woman). He turns to find her in her sleeping gown now—white and ruffled against her contrasting skin. He comes to pull back his covers and climbs into his bed, hands helping her in though she needs no assistance. Josephine sits upright as Zanrye wraps the covers around them both. Heat and desire fill his mind and body as he does. Her hair falls down her back and her eyes look into his. _Like a lady to her man…._ He was her man.

"Are you going to stay on your side?" He smirks at her arms propped behind him as she does not move from her poised position. Josephine cannot stop her laugh and she relaxes into the pillows and moves closer to him. Zanrye's pulse thumps harder. _Nearly touching…nearly…_

"I remember saying I would not share your bed." She said to him as she stopped just out of his reach. He felt a grin come to his face.

"Then it's a good thing we agreed on which we both liked best." He said softly and Josephine blushed deep. The candles that lit the room illuminated her face and Zanrye looked her over again, the vision that she was—almost too beautiful to look at. He found that he was biting his lip and stopped. He held out his arm and after consideration, she moved to let it wrap around her.

Zanrye held her in his embrace, her touch gentle against him. Her smile was…loving. He had them sink down into the pillows, pulling the cover higher. His excitement was offset only by his calm at being with her. Josephine's long hands held his sides and Zanrye finds her mouth, bringing them into a deep kiss that was more passionate than even he intended, rising out of him and her like a wave—unstoppable. His stomach quivered. As did everything else.

"I am sorry for your night terrors." She said after they released each other's lips.

"You give me comfort by being here, ma'fanor." He said softly, eyes closing and opening as the brief moment of mirth was silenced by the rut he was yet in. He fought it. He didn't want anything to ruin this moment with her, here, like an angel in his bed. All things left his mind, all remaining pains and depressions seemed to leave his body.

"The memory…will cease to haunt you—in time." She said, hands working through his hair soothingly.

"In time." He agreed, closing his eyes to her touch. Soft, delicate, but applying pressure that turned him into butter in her hands. Why? _Why does she make me feel like this? Why is she so good…?_ Her lips came back to his and Zanrye kissed her back, wrapping his arms tighter around her body as he did so. His throat burned and her hands on his shoulders and neck were like scorching butterfly kisses. At his deep kiss, a soft sound rose from the back of her throat and ignited him, releasing a beast from within his breast. Groaning, nearly growling, he rolled over her, pinning her to the bed. His eyes were locked as he easily parted her legs with his, resting atop her.

Her slightly surprised exhale only drove him further and his kisses were on her neck and her collarbone, all exposed by the low ruffles of her dress. Her sighs of pleasure were musical like the instrument that played from her office, circulating with the wind. One shoulder of her dress slipped down. He could feel her heart thundering nearly as fast as his was. He kissed her body through her dress and she balled one of his shirt arms into her fist with a whimper. _She's enjoying it_. Zanrye had to see, had to witness what he was doing to her. He raises ever so slightly. She is undone and breathless, hair around her face like a dark mane. Erotic and romantic at once, and full of a desire that told Zanrye of unerupted volcanoes under her surface. _I must have it…._ He wanted to have such an eruption. He needed to feel it from her. His passion beast cried out for it.

"Ma'haurasha." He heard himself whisper before he bit his lip and nuzzled her hair. Her hands relocated to his back, letting the two of them remain pressed body to body. He knew she could feel him, as much as he could feel her. He had one hand creep down, ever so gently, in between the two of them, breath ragged in her locks. He knuckles her warm spot through her garments and feels her draw back at his touch but then forward again. He places his mouth on her neck and repeats his motion to the same effect. _Please…_ he knows not what he's pleading for. But he moves his hand down and under her nightdress, bring it up over her thighs with him as he makes his way towards her exposed well.

He finds purchase and the moan she lets out had his hand shaking. He does not stop, taking her mouth in his to kiss her deeply. She is warm everywhere around him, her body fitting against his. He wets her mouth with his and wraps his free hand into her hair, one of her legs softly locking ankles with him. His buried hand is soaked and warmed and searching. _But not enough_.

"I—" Josephine's attempt to speak is silenced by Zanrye's movements as he props himself up higher on his knees and gets better purchase. That is the last of her words, after which there are only moans, only cries of delight and of pleasure. _Yes…almost…_. Zanrye's free hand grips too hard into her side, holding her steady as she squirms beneath him. He is panting himself, too focused, enjoying the sight and feel of her, riveted by her. But she fills his body and mind and demands complete captivation from every fiber of his being. A piece of art and a force of nature at once. One that whirls through and around him, blossoming for him, even in this way. He just needed to have her bloom and witness the flower that is created by his own cultivation. _Please_

And bloom she did, with a satisfyingly vocal moan that sent ripples through Zanrye's consciousness and sent him to the edge himself. He tried to hold her in her state for as long as he could before he could take the pain no longer; face buried in her neck, body still wrapped up in her, he moved his hand from her heat to his own, titillated by this offhand mixing of their own substances, and trembled as he rubbed his desire away into ecstasy as well.

They laid there for what felt like forever, sex and affection intermingling as their limbs were intertwined. Zanrye stretched out across her, body angled slightly to the side to support himself. Josephine's arms and legs remained wrapped around him and he felt…very, very good. So calm and warm and… _Complete_. He felt peace settle upon them. Her hands on his back, firm and soft grounded him and made him cling to her just as she did to him, like a baby might.

"You are ma'isha." Josephine whispered into the darkness of the room as the flamed flickered shadows on the walls around them. "My dragon…my prince." The tenderness of her words made his chest ache something delightfully painful. Zanrye felt himself rise and fall with her breathing, his own heart matching hers one for one. The return phrase came to his heart before he could rationalize or consciously think it: _Vhenan._

"Ma'asha." He replied vocally, voice husky and soft. "Ma'fanor." He kissed her cheek softly, her hair tickling his ear ever so slightly. "You're my lady and my queen…vhenan'ara." His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he spoke the words, her fingers gently stroking his back. "You're my heart's desire, ma'fanor." The warmth was in his blood and his heart felt too heavy but not uncomfortably so. Josephine's body nuzzled into his and he welcomed her into him. _Vhenan…._ With each breath, he felt that he was pouring himself and receiving her in a river of affection that took them out of their bodies and finally into the fade….

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

There was loud pounding at the door that finally woke Zanrye up. He groaned and shifted his shoulders, feeling a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes ever so slightly and surveyed through his lashes what the situation was; he lay on his back, and Josephine laid half atop him, half at his side. One leg was hooked across him and her arms were around him.

The sight made Zanrye smile warmly, and a bit shyly. She stirred as he did but she looked so beautiful to him even now, hair mussed and expression flat. He stroked her forehead with the hand crooked around her as she awoke slowly. _Ma'asha_

The knocking came again, louder and louder accompanied by the call. Zanrye felt the moment rattled and Josephine was waking up quicker now. She yawned and stretched, away from him a bit and leaving a cold spot where she did. Her eyes blinked a few times, connecting the dots from the night before to how she ended up here. Zanrye also sat up straighter in bed, anger filling him alongside the feeling of loss and ebbing calm. _Fucking son of a piece of shit whore…._ Whoever this maker-damned scout was….

The knocking came again and again and Zanrye stood as Josephine gave him a shy good-morning, her arms wrapping around herself to protect her from his gaze though she, being fully clothed, need not. _She remembered yesterday well._ He sighed heavily and walked to the stairs.

"I'll be back in a moment." He told her unnecessarily and then walked down the landing to where a goddamned scout was awaiting him at the door. Zanrye opened it with death in his eyes and the man didn't move for a moment, shocked by the anger in the air. Finally, words came.

"I…there's news your worship." The man gibbered. Zanrye did not respond, merely stared at the man. The scout licked his lips and continued, "There's…well…Blackwall is missing Ser. And you have other news as well but that…well…warranted my coming here…."

It certainly did. Zanrye could not deny that. But that did not erase the facts. He held out his hand flatly, face still stone. The scout handed over the shaking board and Zanrye closed the door in his face, heading back up the stairs. He reached the top landing to see Josephine now had retrieved her over-dress and was walking to where her cape was. The tender embrace was over.

"Leaving already?" He asked her, a tinge of demure disappointment in his voice. She was blushing ever so slightly and walked in hurried motions.

"It…the day has begun." She said clearing her throat. "And it would not do for me to be late… such a thing would only disrupt the time schedule and…create whispers…."

Zanrye did not say anything for a moment and then he grabbed one side of the cape she was attempting to put on. She stopped and looked now directly in his eyes and Zanrye felt his chest tug under her gaze. He blushed himself and looked down then back _._

"Will you…come again?" He asked her. She just stared for a time, Zanrye looking to the floor but back up at her again like a shy nug.

"If…there can be such a time." Josephine said. "I…there are many things that must be done… but—I mean to say…." Zanrye waits patiently and Josephine finally sighs and smiles up at him. "Yes… some times…I will come again."

"I mean…I would like that." Zanrye said, eyeing her hopefully. Her slightly self-important grin had him return a smile.

"As would I." Josephine said genuinely. Her eyes lingered and then she cleared her throat and left the room giving him a quick squeeze of the hand before she left. Zanrye waited for a time and then looked down at the board and scoffed.

 _Report to training_

 _If you're well enough to walk around and greet your friends, you're well enough to train. I don't see you by midday today, you can expect to see me again in maybe a year or so._

 _Meet me by eastern forests outside Skyhold_

 _Thram_

* * *

 **Helpful Information**

ELVEN (taken from fenxshiral lexicon)

ma'haurasha: sexual innuendo meaning "my honey." Honey being "wetness." Translates into "you make me hard/wet" O.O You're welcome

ma'fanor: again, pet name Zan has for Josie which means "my precious." Ma'isha is my man. Ma'asha is my woman.

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Tiana- (girl) Ally to Zanrye, spy in Orlais

Lana- (girl) friend to Zanrye and in charge of his secret elven army/society amassing near Skyhold


	21. Family First

**[NOTE: Sorry for the long wait you guys. Life has stopped being unpredictable so I hope you enjoy. Took weeks to groom this so I hope it's to your liking]**

* * *

SKYHOLD

"With Orlais's support, our numbers match Corypheus's." Cullen explained to Zanrye as they all stood around the war table in Skyhold. "His followers must be panicking."

"My agents agree." Leliana said. "They are shaking even now." Zanrye couldn't help but smile.

"We've beaten their 'god' twice now." He said. "If anything sends the message that we're the real force to be reckoned with, it's that."

"After what happened at Adamant, it seems Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds." Cullen said. "They went marching into the arbor wilds."

"They were clearly not prepared to flee." Josephine added. "We have them on the defensive."

"Then if he's hiding in the wilds, that's where we'll finish him off." Zanrye said conclusively.

"But we also must know what Corypheus is even doing in such a remote area." Josephine added.

"As it turns out," Leliana answered, "his people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven. We believe he seeks more. What he hopes to find however continues to elude us." Zanrye's mind went back to Solas and his comment about the orb. He said nothing as they continued.

"What Corypheus seeks," Morrigan's sultry drawl came from behind them as she strode into the war council chambers, "is as ancient as it is dangerous, kept safe in those forgotten woods."

"And what is it?" Zanrye asked her.

"Tis best…if I show you." Morrigan said slowly. Zanrye hesitated for one moment then followed the dark lady down the steps and into one of the rooms still needing to be fixed up. She stopped before a draped, tall figure and removed its wrapping, revealing a shining mirror.

"Is this…" Zanrye's eyes went wide as he stared.

"Tis an eluvian, yes." Morrigan said, confirming Zanrye's suspicions. He felt fear and excitement all at once as he gazed at the depths of the mirror's shimmer. "You've no doubt heard of them…."

"Only in stories." Zanrye said, voice hushed as he surveyed the eluvian. "From the time of the ancients…."

"Before your empires were lost to human greed." Morrigan said. Zanrye finally looked back at her and she continued, "I restored this one at great cost. But another lies in the arbor wilds. That is what Corypheus seeks." Zanrye's eyes fell back on the mirror and he tried to recall all he'd been told about them—about their function and the dangers of them. But he could not recall, desperately as he may try.

"I found legends of an elven temple in the Arbor Wilds. Untouched." Morrigan said and Zanrye's face jerked to her, his excitement palpable. "It proved too dangerous to approach and so I turned back." Her voice was grim. "If Corypheus has turned southwards, he may succeed where I did not. The eluvian would be his."

"What power does it give?" Zanrye asked, hand stroking the frame of the mirror. Morrigan smiled at him.

"A more appropriate question, Inquisitor, is where does it lead?" She said.

The door opened behind the, breaking at whatever revelation Morrigan was about to impart. The two turned towards the intruder—the fucking scout that always bothered him—and Zanrye narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Your Worship." The man bowed his head low. "I didn't want to disturb you but a message just came in—urgent. Ambassador told me to get it to you quickly."

Zanrye looked to Morrigan whose expression mirrored his own. He walked to the man, took the parchment, and dismissed him. He turned back to Morrigan.

"Let me read this quickly." He said, unraveling it.

"As you will." She nodded and waited near the eluvian, walking past it and around it. Zanrye saw the urgent notice on the front and then unrolled the parchment. It was addressed to him by name—full name. His eyes read down the page, stomach falling. He knew his face dropped when Morrigan eyed him, cocking a brow. He looked back up at her and shook his head and turned from the room and walked straight back up to the war room. Only Leliana was left. She greeted him but he put the parchment on the table and bent over it.

"Get the council in here stat, Leliana." He said to her, voice hoarse.

"What's happened?" She asked.

"My Clan's under attack." He replied tightly and didn't have to say any more.

* * *

9 YEARS EARLIER

TRAVELING (GREEN DALES)

It was an empty tent, though only a few months back there'd been a house filled with sounds of food being made, cursing, and slight hummings from Narvez. From Zanrye's father. But now it was devoid of any of what constituted a home.

But even though the catastrophe had struck, Mima and Zanrye were certainly not alone. He came to their home of two and did his best to cook dinner for them and at least once a week, there would be a coalition of people coming to their doors asking if they were alright and what it is they may need. They would bring foods, gifts, and flowers.

It was in this year that Zanrye felt like an adult for truly the first time. Not like a man, a full elf, a hunter. But like an adult.

He had to personally take up the state of affairs for Mima and himself, maintaining the house and making sure that they had what they needed. As an already established hunter, the house work (corralling of animals and cleaning) went to Mima. Their father's herbalist taks went to them both, leaning heavily on Zanrye who had more skill, training, and passion for it.

"Make another double tonight Zan." Mima told her brother, walking around him with cloths in hand. Zanrye was over three different pans with a pot in the fire.

"That means Milan is coming tonight?" Zanrye asked her.

"Yes." She said, walking around him again, this time with tablewear.

"Can't understand why he thinks bread is the way to my blessing." Zanrye shook his head.

"Bread and wine." Mima reminded him. "And he's not after your blessing—"

"Yes he is." Zanrye wiped his hands on a worn apron, moving over to the boiling soup in the pot wafting the smells of spices, chicken, and cabbage.

"Well he knows what you're capable of." Mima said, walking over to her brother's back and looking into the fire as well. She placed a small hand on his spine, rubbing slowly. "It looks good…. Now let's hope everyone can finish it all."

The night came quickly while he was cooking and soon the guests came, the gifts dispersed, and the potluck dinner was at hand, both the indoor and outdoor table propped in the eating area.

"As long as we keep moving, we should be able to avoid any stupidity." Nishia said to Zanrye over the countless other conversations, as she spooned sticky rice into her mouth. She sat across from him at a table filled to the edges with nearly twenty people. To her left, Cal was talking animatedly with Kaynala about something or the other. He kept his hand near Nishia's on the table. He was a part of the Crafters in the clan. A man of the hearth for sure. He was Nishia's beau, a real one this time, not one of the men who fell in love with her when all she wanted from them was flesh—and told them so.

On her other side were Evet and his sister Orine. They were friends of Mima's. Evet had been Mima's friend since childhood. They supplied some of the vegetables, their parents owning one of the largest gardens in the whole clan.

Across was of course Lana and Po, who came with Po's beau Denosa who brought her wonderful voice and motherly demeanor. She has a kind, angular face with long brunette hair with waves in it that fell down to the middle of her back. She was a calm woman who spoke to all with the gentle intuitiveness of a caregiver, her skin as white as pearls. Yet her icey blue eyes were also deep and told of her quick wit and intellect, which balanced her soft disposition. Everyone agreed that Po did not deserve her but yet she stayed with him, and when together, they seemed the perfect balance of hot and cold, wild and civilized. They opposed each other but did not combat each other; they were the counterweight that made their relationship balanced.

Zanrye sat beside Dosan, a man in the clan who'd become more of a friend to him after his father died. In truth, Dosan had been the physical support that neither his friends nor Mima's could be when it came to maintenance: he'd seen to their home's upkeep and checked in every so often, reminding them of duties that were now theirs (Zanrye's) as acting household leader.

On his other side was Mima and her boyfriend Milan, who was kind enough, with peaceful eyes. He was in all honesty, he was a good boy and had been nothing but good to Mima and Zanrye and was trying to impress the older brother.

"A delicious hog, as expected Zanrye." Denosa said to him. He smiled at the woman and nodded his head, pleased by the compliment and the guests.

"We should have some music," Po said. "Kay, you have your lute right? Would you mind?"

"We…have a flute here." Mima said softly. "Mom's…." Silence.

"I…can play flute." Milan quickly saved the moment. "My sisters will tell you different but I promise I can." The laughter circled the long tables.

"And I have drums." Orine said. "I mean, you have them. I can just play them."

"Den," Po wrapped a long arm around her shoulders. "Will you sing for us? Hm?"

"I don't know what to sing." Denosa smiled at them.

"You always know what to sing." Po smiled warmly at her. Denosa thought for a time and then smiled as faces kept turning toward her.

"Well alright." She gave in. "Kaynala, if you will. And Orine."

She sat in the rocking chair to one side, Kaynala producing her flute that she had brought just in case. Zanrye sat up straighter, waiting to hear tunes to fill the now-emtpy room. Denosa swept her hair from her face and thought. The room silently awaited her and she inhaled, her demeanor ever calm.

The lute's rhythm was moderate, the drums a slow 1-2-3-4 beat. The flute was silent until after the initial verse. She sung with voice too rich and practiced to be an amateur. She could have been a singer if she wanted, a bard even.

"Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all," Denosa sang, eyes closed, reciting the words to the song 'Love of The Soul'. "But open your heart and forever stand tall. Lend me your eyes I can change what you see. And your soul you must let totally free…. My love…vhenan… elvhen…vhenan…."

Zanrye nodded along with the rest of them, his hand tapping along the drums, the flute sweeping through the room and lifting the hearts with the more sweet than bitter anthem, the poem a monologue from a Dalish elf addressing a city elf. He mouthed the words, along with the others in the room, heart beckoned by the lyrics that spoke of family and unity and the favor of the Gods.

"Awake our souls." He whispered. Mima's head came to his shoulder and he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders, as she hummed with him. Brother and sister, the last of a dead legacy. Allowed precious moments of happiness in the tragedy that threatened to define their narratives. Denosa's sweet voice swept through the room even still, periforating into each person and sending the infectious happiness into them all.

"We were made to love each other. We were made for something greater." The chanting was taken up by all in the room and finally closed her song. A chorus of thumps and applause bowed Denosa from the spotlight and she gracefully returned to her seat beside Po.

"Another?" Kaynala asked, lute still at the ready.

"Another one or two maybe." Zanrye said. "That was beautiful Denosa, just beautiful. That was all we needed." She nodded. "And we can have another but it's late and I want Mima to be up early." His sister rolled her eyes and he rose, turning to Nishia. "Stay?"

"Of course." She gave him a smile.

"When will I expect you home?" Cal whispered into her ear.

"I'll be back after the hunt tomorrow." She said, not making eye contact. Zanrye turned away to no longer evesdrop but did catch Cal's persuasion tactics for her to see him before she left off for the hunt itself, since she wouldn't be staying at home.

He also noticed to his right that Milan, though now with his arm respectfully around Mima, kept trying to catch his eye. Zanrye felt calm and mellow from the song, and giddy from the wine. He took another piece of bread, unsure if he wanted to have another conversation with Milan, ever trying to gain his friendship.

But he was an adult now. He was the head of the home. And he knew it was something that should be continually addressed, for the family. He turned to Po.

"Make sure Mima gets to bed before Denosa asks to take off." He whispered.

"Where will you be?" Po asked.

"Outside, going to make love with her suitor." Zanrye replied, finally letting his eyes glance over Milan's as Milan tried to catch his attention. He turned away and stood, addressing Nishia's inquisitive eyes. "I'm going out for some air. Just need to soak up the stars after that song."

"Have fun." She said. "I'll set up in the back room when I'm ready."

"Thank you again for dinner Zanrye." Denosa smiled warmly at him.

"Always nice to have you here." Zanrye took her hand and smiled warmly. "And it's just Rye to you Denosa. We're family."

"I like the ring of Zanrye better." She grinned.

"Alright, enough making love with my beau." Po swatted Zanrye's butt where the man stood. "Any more would be flirting and I don't want to have to please the both of you tonight."

Zanrye chuckled and made his way outside, watching as Milan kissed Mima and made to follow him.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Images of the worst filled his mind as he paced before the war council who all collectively tried to calm him down, exchanging looks of shock, bemusement, and incredulous-ness between themselves to which Zanrye bristled and glared in response. And their bickering didn't help matters either.

"I only care about stopping the immediate danger." Zanrye said through his teeth as they yelled back and forth. "Someone give me a plan."

"We could have troops there, a sizable force, to deal with this." Cullen suggested.

"My agents would be faster. And are not to be trifled with, no matter the size of the enemy." Leliana urged, exasperated.

"But they cannot give adequate defense and potential offense as can the troops—"

"The purpose is to get the Dalish to safety first before retaliation—they're exposed. Plus, my agents can make it there in a day while a full battalion would take much longer."

"But the Duke is an ally to us as well." Josephine struggled to get her voice into Leliana and Cullen's bickering as Zanrye rubbed his forehead, striding to and fro, restless. "Surely, we could ask for his assistance. The alienage at the city's edge could prove a safe haven."

"What if he was involved?" Leliana shot back.

"We will not know if—"

"No." Zanrye said hardly, from the side. Josephine turned her disapproving glare on him. He glared back. "I don't know this Duke and I don't trust him."

"And why not?" Josephine asked, her voice edged with a double meaning that made Zanrye even angrier here, his panic rising.

"Because he's done nothing about it already." Zanrye shot back at her. "I want a force to make sure nothing happens to my clan and I want it now." His patience is wearing thin. His cold anger is replaced by something more beastly. Something that's cold and hot at the same time and dancing with a steam of endless possibilities that fights it for dominance.

"I can have troops ready to move today." Cullen said.

"Move today, arrive days later." Leliana replied. "My agents can make it there in a matter of a day."

"A raven would be even faster, a matter of hours." Josephine urged. "We can get on-site help from the Duke himself—" Zanrye snapped and yelled out a growl as they once again yelled over each other. He turned from them and stomped towards the door, their chatter dying away as he reached it. His face was anger and he glared at them all.

"You talk and talk and talk while my clan is in danger!" He yelled at them, voice shaking he was so mad. "How are you not getting that into your heads!? Danger—now! I don't need talk and ideas, I need results; and if you can't give them to me, why the FUCK are you my war council!?" They each gazed at him silently as he hurled at them, a rage he'd never shown them letting loose. "I'm not going to wait for them to be slaughtered while we debate on how to save them! Because I swear to the Maker, Mythal,and any fucking Gods you want that I will send every single troop, every single agent, every single ally to Wycome if I have to!" He made a noise of disgust, too hoarse to yell but voice still audible. He felt ready to kill, his tongue getting away from him. "Trust shems to sit on their hands when it's elven lives at stake…"

He didn't wait for them, only yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

He was fuming and made it to his study before he finally let his tears of fear and fury moisten his eyes, not quite enough to stream. He rubbed hands through his hair and thought hard, debating. Should he send his secret community, throw away what he already built? He couldn't ask allies, that was negotiation—no time for that. Should he send in troops? He couldn't think….

He jerked his head up as the door to his study opened and Josephine walked in, her face plain and hands cupped at her front. And instantly Zanrye felt shame come to him, remembering his words moments before. He did not look at her, instead at his feet and sighed, turning away from her. He did not have the capacity for shame right now. Not with everything else he felt.

"Cullen has gone to assemble troops to bridge the gap in case we need to indeed send in a regiment." She said calmly. Zanrye didn't look at her, processing her words. "I decided that it would take too long to negotiate with the Duke and learn the situation so I also instructed Leliana to send in her agents, who can make it there by nightfall if they move full speed."

Zanrye still didn't answer. Troops amassing closer to the area, just in case. Agents to arrive at the location to save his clan by nightfall. It was still a gamble—agents weren't soldiers—but it was something. And if they could just defend…until the troops came….

"We will await word," Josephine continued, "But with this course of action, I still sent a raven informing the Duke that there are bandits. I did not mention your clan, as you did not want it."

Zanrye's shame broke him and he looked up at her with the saddest nug eyes and his cheeks were tinged with red.

"Thank you, Josephine." He said quietly.

"Your family is very important to you." She said calmly. "And you have so few members left." She came towards him with business eyes. "But you also mustn't let that get in the way of actually helping them."

"I know." Zanrye mumbled.

"No Zanrye, you don't." Josephine responded and Zanrye looked up to see her hand on her hip. She shook her head. "You cannot let your feelings make you rash or risky." She said to him. "You do that too much. You become afraid so you want to rush in to kill the threat but that is not always the right or best solution and can lead to more trouble later on." Zanrye didn't answer her, hands together and to his knees. She came beside him. "You are the Inquisitor…and you were a hunter. You must remember to keep your head."

"I know." He said lowly and felt her place a hand on his head. He closed his eyes to the touch and felt at least a bit better. But Josephine withdrew and had her hand on her hip again.

"You've embarrassed yourself and me as well back there." Josephine said, voice irate with a touch of hurt. He looked up at her cold eyes. "What you said to us was not only uncalled for but disgusting—"

"I'm sorry Josie." He looked at her with sad eyes. "I got angry I—"

"Things have happened to you. Your wariness is valid." Josephine overtalked him. "But if you seek to make monsters and enemies out of all who are human then you are just as ignorant as those who would demonize all elves."

He didn't answer. He knew he had nothing to give to her that would equate to a proper apology. Because how could he apologize for saying something unforgivable? When he meant it.

"Don't…ever…utter that word again." Her eyes were hard. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes." He nodded, truthful that he would never speak it again…to her or in her presence, as he had tried to censor it around her up to now already. "I'm sorry, Josephine…."

"Come." She said, turning from his pleading. "There is yet work to be done. While we await a response, we must not let our other obligations and duties fall to the wayside."

She did not wait for him. But Zanrye stood slowly and followed her out.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Circular trees and mist were all that Zanrye could make out for the first five minutes. The transportation into the Crossroads—as Morrigan deemed it—felt like nothing, like floating on air, walking without gravity, until finally he set feet in what he knew was sacred ground.

This was how the ancient elves traveled, before even the coming of the old empires of elves. The stories…of when he walked with Gods. Zanrye was in awe. All other matters faded from his mind as he treaded through the dark mirrors. Morrigan had an answer fro that as well. Most were corrupted and unusable now. But others…like the one at Skyhold…was active.

But not all were open. Some needed keys. Others led to more crossroads. It was extraordinary. A network of tunnels funneling into a wealth of history. Zanrye felt like a baby, watching it all with his own eyes for the first time.

It was almost time now. Though reluctant to leave, Zanrye had more pressing things in mind. He walked out of the eluvian back into the dim of reality and slept as best he could, the mixture of anxiety and enthusiasm, worry and interest jostling around his head. He wanted to be in the crossroads. And yet he also wanted to remain in the world, to know what would happen to his clan. That very night, he dreamedof entering a respite with his clan, each of them healthy and safe, just like Morrigan had spoken of herself doing with her beloved companion, one of the greatest men she ever knew.

In the morning, he walked briskly to the war room. He needed updates. And very soon, he would go to see morrigan again. And then they would bask in the oldness of the eluvian once more.

Before he left for the war room, Solas greeted him. They exchanged their worries and Solas looked at him seriously.

"If there's anything I can do, lethalin." Solas said, eyes without humor. "Anything at all. You let me know."

"Inquisitor." A Scout came up to him, the one that always did. Zanrye rolled his eyes at Solas.

"This man has the worst timing in all the world." He sighed. "Can you meet with Lana for me? She should be in my office. Tell her to stay there until I come back after this meeting. We'll see if any progress has been made."

"I know. But we don't have anything to do until we get news—which it seems we have now from scout…what's your name again?" Solas asked.

"Dalon, sir." The man said.

"Now a name for the face." Zanrye scoffed and moved past him to the war room, waving to Solas as he did so. He didn't even wait for the report from the scout.

"What's going on?" He asked his small council.

"Your suspicions were correct about the Duke." Leliana said instantly. "My agents report that he has involvement with bandits; that was in fact the one who hired them."

"And my clan? What of my clan?" Zanrye asked testily.

"Safe." Cullen said.

"They are in a more defensible position outside of Wycome, near the nearby alienage." Leliana said. Zanrye visibly deflated, relieved beyond measure. He took a moment to recollect himself.

"That's great. That's great." He said, inhaling. "And? The Duke's…corrupt?"

"Yes." Josephine said. "You were correct in that. It seems that he made this move against the Dalish and other elves in the alienage as well. Along with the report came another note." She handed it to him and he read. "Not only were the bandits heavily armed and attacking but it seems from Leliana's findings that he may have been trying to take action somewhere in order to assure his nobles that he is in fact 'handling things.'"

"Things?" Zanrye kept reading.

"Handling the plague that has broken out in the city." Leliana spoke. "It seems that a disease has spread that affects only the humans—"

"Knife-ear plague?" Zanrye read aloud, eyebrows narrowing as rage overtook his senses. There was an awkard and obvious silence that overtook the room and it took all of Zanrye's will not to speak up again. He had to behave. His clan was depending on him.

"As the public believes this is some facilitated magic by the elves," Josephine said, "it seems the Duke may have taken it upon himself to show some strength. This is still shaky but—"

"But my agents have yet to be wrong." Leliana put in.

Zanrye said nothing for a time. He tried to get his mind together. His clan was near Wycome, attacked randomly by bandits too well armored and trained to be commoners. Turns out they have a connection to the Duke of Wycome, may have even been paid by him. This would tie in nicely with the fucking knife-ear curse that people were thinking the elves set upon the humans next to them.

"So how far are our troops?" Zanrye asked.

"The last raven said they were making camp a few clicks away." Cullen said.

"But," Josephine intervened, "these are all still suspicions and this would be the time for diplomacy, to test the waters with Duke Antoine, not to close all channels."

"I think it's more or less clear what his position is." Zanrye shot back.

"That is yet to be fully determined. We only know his approval or seal of approval is associated now." Josephien continued. "And we have no knowledge of the state of things inside."

"Yet he also does nothing and offers no refuge to the clan? Only maybe some coin to those who defeat the bandits that apparently he ordered?" Zanrye rolled his eyes. "He's guilty."

"In politics, nothing is ever that simple," Josephine argued. "Even in this situation—was it a targeted attack on the clan? What outside forces are at work?"

"It's called the knife-ear plague Josephine!" His yell came out suddenly and he became painfully aware of yet another silent bout from Leliana nd Cullen as he and Josephine had a row, quarreling each other. It was business related but…the passion was palpable.

Though no one besides those in his confidence and Vivienne had spoken of his and Josephine's new relationship, he was sure word had circulated about them by now. They had gone from complete formalness to risking timed disapperances for dates made as inconspicuous as they could alongside things like warm looks and Zanrye's absence from his chambers on nights he crept into Jospehine's bed to sleep beside her or (even more noticeable) when Josephine ventured into his to do the same. On top of that, their courting was more or less unhidden beforehand.

Now, they were yelling, about his clan. Zanrye nearly hated her for that—for being on a side that was not his when it came to his clan. But he couldn't, and he knew the situation had already made things rocky, what with his outburst just a day and a half before. He hadn't even had time to see where exactly her head was, after his slur. He only knew it'd hurt.

"We have no idea of the sickness and why it only effects humans rather than elves, nor of the forces he may have in the city." Josephine said bluntly, with cold eyes after their staring match. "He alleges to be an ally of the Inquisition so there may be a framing at work as well." She spoke as if to a child. "There are factors that must be taken into consideration. Inquisitor."

"She's right, Inquisitor." Cullen said softly and Zanrye's eyes found him, awkwardly shifting. "I could march my troops in but now that the danger has passed and there is no target, it would look like a direct assault on the city—which could be fine if we had more intelligence about, indeed, what forces he may have—or…yknow…concrete wrong he may have done."

Zanrye scowled for a few moments before he finally spoke to the table itself, not looking in anyone's eyes, "Then we'll send someone legitimate. Ambassador, get your people on it. But keep our troops at the ready in case things turn, Commander."

"Yes, Your Worship." Josephine said promptly, the other two following suit. Zanrye barely made it out of the room when he felt Josephine come up beside him.

"We must all be together in this." She said, looking forward as they walked though Zanrye could feel the eyes of Leliana and Cullen on their backs. "Working as a unit to get to the bottom of this, in case it has something more to do with your clan itself or even Corypheus."

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Zanrye said, turning into her office.

"No you are not." Josephine said harshly. She set her board down on her desk. "You are letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment, as you did the last time we all met."

"How am I to feel nothing at all about my clan facing the possibility of extermination?" Zanrye sighed, exasperated.

"Feeling is alright." Josephine glared. "The issue I take is with your looseness about going to full war without all of the necessary information first—information that Leliana and I provide."

"And you've provided it, haven't you?" Zanrye rolled his eyes.

"Yes, piece by piece; having to fight you the entire way." Josephine said. "Which we should not have to do. Again, we must be a unit—together—"

"This is my clan, my family at stake!" Zanrye glared. "So pardon me if don't take too kindly to outsiders delaying their rescue." The look on her face told him that he'd done it again, offended her. Hurt her. He sighed and turned away, hands fisting his forehead and his hair, upset. He sighed. "I don't mean to—"

"Outsider?" She spoke in a hushed voice that made Zanrye's stomach flip. A painful compulsion took hold of him as her face, crestfallen, matched her voice. He sighed heavily and turned to face her, feet carrying him close to her.

"Josephine," he began and when she turned her body from him, he felt as though he might just cry, or throw something. Or both. But he did neither. "It isn't my intention to…isolate you."

"You're trying to isolate yourself." She said softly, voice thicke. "As you did before." She glanced his way only to look away again, making more distance physically as well. "When you first joined the Inquisition—surrounded by strangers; aloof, cold, and withdrawn. Isolated. And here you are again, doing the same. But instead of cold, you're just angry. But you aren't surrounded by strangers. You're surrounded by people who care about you and this Inquisition, that you are the leader of." She sighs. "But if we aren't of your clan…we remain detached?"

"Josie—"

"If we aren't elves, we're forever outsiders?" She shot at him now and Zanrye felt himself rooted to the spot. He swallowed and calmed himself at her accusatory eyes.

"Ma'fanor." He said slowly as she looked away from him. "I've…been brash and careless these past few days. I know that. I've said things you didn't deserve. But you have to understand that it's been hard for me…losing my family like I have. I have worked to protect those left so far…and failed…with Po." He paused, swallowing some more. "So when I say to you…that my Keeper…my little sister…my best friends…are all there…and that yes I'm scared for them, you have to understand that translates into…panicking a bit. Because I can only do so much, especially with the distance. I know planning and stopping to think can help but hesitation can also harm; and when someone I care about is threatened, I won't risk waiting and letting them be hurt." He stepped closer to her, hand brushing hers. "You know that yourself."

Josephine did not move for a long while. But then she did and her eyes looked back up into Zanrye's how he wanted them to look: she was malleable again, caring again, hopeful again.

"I know you are afraid darling." She said quietly. "But you have to trust us…and if not us, trust me." She looked straight into his eyes. "Trust that your issues…your clan, these things you hold in high regard, also stand as such for me. As mine have stood for you before." She straightened. "We need to be together in this…that is the only way we'll succeed."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

The next four days of waiting were torturous. Lady Volant's update still hadn't come though news of his clan's safety was very welcome. He was happy enough with at least that information. But for how long would they stay that way? That was the worrisome part.

"Inquisitor." Lana bowed her head, smiling at Zanrye as he stopped off at his Dalish encampment. As they left the ears of others, she spoke an anxious whisper. "I got your raven. Is it true?"

"Yes." He said. "An eluvian. It's intact and I even went through it myself, to a place in between the fade and our world." Lana exhaled.

"Amazing…" She said. "And I will be able to…see it?"

"I'll have Solas come to you this evening. I don't want any attention drawn towards you." Zanrye explained. "And you can work on it whenever you wish. Just find me or Solas to escort you. It's the only way I can guarantee you an alibi. Things are edgy since Corypheus moved into the wilds."

"If there is a temple…I want to come with you." Lana said.

"Perhaps." Zanrye said. "Remember, I need someone here to hold down the fort in case Corypheus has something up his sleeve. I'm already sending most of the army. You'd be my last line of defense."

"But—"

"Nothing's been decided yet." Zanrye said. "We're not leaving until Lavellan is safe."

"And you do not want me to go myself?" Lana asked.

"Your team of mages is alright enough for now." Zanrye said. "If they and the Inquisition troops can't properly defend our clan…I'd be surprised. But we're trying diplomacy now."

"You believe that is the wise choice?" Lana asked.

"…I don't know." Zanrye admitted. "But it's all I can do right now. And my Ambassador and Spymaster haven't been wrong before. They're better at strategizing than I am."

"Oh Rye." Lana chuckled. "That's very true. You never were one for back alley subterfuge—or unclear intentions. It just seems…as Inquisitor, you walk a bit taller, talk with more authority now…and you're doing quite of a bit of strategizing even here." She gestures to the encampment that was growing by the day. Zanrye smiled small. She returned it. "But for Zanrye…our little RyeRye…there was only two options: fight or flight."

"We do both naturally." Zanrye defended himself, chuckling. "Either commit or pull out."

"Or find a third way." Lana said. "Or fourth, or fifth." She looked out onto the mountain passes and forests surrounding them. "I believe in our clan. We're stronger than they think."

"Yes we are." Zanrye said. "Yes we are."

When he returned to Skyhold, they finally got word from Volant. She sent a frivolous message full of chatter and talk but Josephine told of the code hidden within the praises of the Duke: Red lyrium infection in the water in the city (not alienage); do not send in troops.

"He said he's going to kill the elves soon." Zanrye said. "If not the Dalish, then the alienage elves."

"And we can prevent that." Josephine said. "But Volant advised against a direct force, which means that there may be no way to get to the Duke, minimize casualties, or even take the city fully. Plus, there are more bandits assembling further off."

"And I also have already dispatched more of my agents." Leliana added. "I can have scouts escort the Dalish into the city, where there is a verified resistance group formed by the elves that can provide sancturary, allowing our troops to have free access on the perimeter."

"And what about in the city?" Zanrye asked. "The note from my Keeper clearly stated that the nobles themselves and townsfolk are threatening to mob the elves already present."

"Which is why my skirmishers will be ready." Leliana said.

"The humans are weakened by the lyrium—and have no knowledge of it." Josephine said. "If we can expose it, they may even turn against the Duke. And the force Leliana sent is small enough to not be a brazen threat but also large and skilled enough to protect the elves if it comes to that."

Zanrye turned to Cullen who had been silent this entire meeting.

"What do you think?" He asked him.

"I…it's hard to say." Cullen said. "I would feel happier if we had more support from the troops but Leliana's skirmishers have yet to be wrong. And Volant has always provided good information. May I just suggest that we do indeed take the perimeter and then get ready to infiltrate the city? Send in the battering ram also."

"That would be a very threatening—"

"Do it." Zanrye interrupted. "Hide the ram until you've taken the perimeter. See if they let us inside." He looked to Leliana who'd spoken—and to Josephine. "It's better to be safe."

"Of course." Josephine nodded. "Keep our options open."

* * *

9 YEARS EARLIER

TRAVELING (GREEN DALES)

The smalltalk that Milan attempted to make was pathetic at best. Zanrye put him out of his mistery after the first clumsy, not at all subtle introduction of Mima as a topic of conversation failed to go over as smoothly as Milan would have wanted.

"Mima seems to like you." Zanrye said bluntly.

"I like her as well, very much, hahren." Milan said eagerly, giving Zanrye the most desperate eyes in the world. Zanrye did not budge.

"She is also still a child." Zanrye said to him, but speaking to the stars. "She is young…and has a bad habit of choosing…less than reputable…men."

"And I promise I am not one of them." Milan said.

"That remains to be seen, Milan." Zanrye exhaled into the night. The stars above were bright in comparison to all else. Almost too bright.

"Hahren…" Milan licked his lips. "I know…what you must fear—"

"I don't think this is the best time to be going on such a long trip," Zanrye said, his eyes finally finding Milan's. "Especially not with the state of affairs still not done and Dosan can only do so much. And I can't ask Nishia to take up the slack while we're all gone." Milan said nothing. "I know…that she wants to go and visit Clan Halish…everyone does. I've only been once myself. To get away a while would be good for us all. But the clan is traveling and I can't risk anything else happening."

"We'd be perfectly safe…and Keeper has already determined the next destination." Milan said.

"And if the course changes?" Zanrye's voice was hard.

"Then we would change with it." Milan said lightly. "And I think not having the clan around, that…solid foundation…to instead go away for a while, away from duties, would be good for the both of you to…to not be trapped…here."

"We aren't trapped anywhere." Zanrye said, keeping his temper. "We just have less time…now."

"I understand that…and it's been hard for you two." Milan said. "For us all. But in my humble opinion, I think that the move itself won't change anything. What you both need now—"

"How do you figure you know what we need?" Zanrye eyed him. Milan did not reply for a good while and then his face closed. He nodded slowly.

"Thank you for dinner, Zanrye." He said quietly. "If you change your mind about the trip…we aren't leaving until next week…but Omorasapi wants the count soon."

He did not say more, just left Zanrye in the chair, under the stars. Music was wafting from inside. He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. Go on this trip, away from the clan without a solid, established destination to return to? Stupid. And the instability of that was not at all what he needed right now. Milan had good intentions—wanted the three of them to bond—but….

Zanrye could not really tell the counter-point. Maybe it was because the music or the wine or the fact that Milan baked good bread, but he felt for the boy and his courage and attempt. He meant well, and this trip did look promising. A change for him and Mima and the hopeful to have some "one-on-one time." The thought made Zanrye chuckle. Even so removed, the intimate times he shared with Mima were plagued by the deaths behind them and the rawness of the yet unsealed wound over their transportation into the realm of adulthood—Mima before her time. He sighed more, looking up into nothing. He was tired himself. The lute still played inside. He was off-beat and singing the wrong song but the words came to him once more, those beautiful words from Denosa that each of them had sung as a family.

"Awake….my soul." He whispered. "Awake our souls."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Six agonizing days later, the reports were in. Zanrye had been right that there was an effort in the city to take care of the elves but Leliana had also been right about the resistance. And Josephine had been right about the people turning on the nobles once the red lyrium use had been exposed. The Duke was now dead and those who remained in the city were not the ruling elite.

"There were Venatori agents that no-doubt influenced the Duke to act in such a way," Leliana said. "They have been taken care of as well."

"But that still leaves the marchers." Cullen said. "They do believe that the Duke was killed by the elves and will retaliate."

"How soon?" Zanrye asked.

"They were spotted only three night's march away." Cullen said grimly.

"How well fortified is the city?" Zanrye asked.

"Not fortified enough." Josephine said.

"Do you think the marchers can be reasoned with?" Leliana asked.

"It's hard to say." Josephine sighed. "Lady Volant is very good at her job but I do not know if even she can calm a mob, be able to keep them out of the city. Because the position isn't well protected, it will be tricky though she has been able to do the impossible before."

"Inquisitor, if I may," Cullen spoke up, loudly for the first time since their first day working on this. All eyes turned to him and he sighed. "I don't know much about political strategy and the dealings of assassins and spies. But I do know war—and battle strategies are second nature to me." He stood straighter. "And my instincts are telling me that if we negotiate, the marchers will kill the elves, and then send apologies." He was grave. "Josephine is right about the city—and the only way we can open negotiations now with our people inside is to fortify it. We must advance."

Zanrye felt a smile come to his face before he could stop it. Despite the dismal situation, it was there.

"Alright then Commander." He said. "Do what you do best. Clan Lavellan is counting on you."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Josephine came to his office where he was napping on a sofa. Her knocking over his stack of papers in her efforts to be quiet awoke him. He was groggy but awake and she smiled at him and handed him his tea she'd brought.

"I would have thought to find you celebrating." Josephine grinned. "Cup of ale in one hand, parchment to write notes to your clan in the other."

"Notes are already written." Zanrye sat up, smiling at her and taking the drink. "But I'd like to revel in relief with a clear mind…." She sat beside him and smiled warmly, leaning onto him. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her tight.

"You've done it." She said into his shoulder, kissing it. "You've saved them…and set them up with a home…a voice on the new council at Wycome…" She sighed. "You've done the impossible."

"With help from you." He told her. "Had we gone in any sooner like I wanted—"

"But we did not." Josephine said. "And now the outcome is greater than we could have hoped." He knew it was true and smiled but quickly frowned again.

"I really am sorry." He looked at her. "For these past two weeks. Are you angry with me?"

"I do not blame you." She said. "But I will not excuse the actions…."

"I know." He nodded. "But it won't happen again…." He gave her a weak smile. "You're ma'asha. Ma'fanor." He cupped her face. "Not my battle dummy."

"I told you to go against your own reasoning." Josephine said. "Of course you would react negatively. What hurt was…the thought that those things were how you actually felt; how you spoke when your emotions were out in the open." Zanrye cupped her face with both hands now, his eyes fierce.

"You. Are not. An outsider." He stressed. "Not to me. And I'm sorry for grouping you in as though you were…." He put their foreheads together. "And for my other comment…. I was angry at the bandits—at the people of Wycome. And I took it out on my own council."

"I don't want you to view me as a…'shem'…" Josephine said, her eyes not meeting his.

"I don't." Zanrye stressed. "And I never will. I was transferring what I felt about those attacking my clan…. Attacking us because of who we are…."

"They are monsters…not 'shems.'" Josephine said conclusively, eradicating the word (as best she could). Zanrye said nothing but pulled her close to him again. She hugged him back. "Would you like me to bring the instrument? You are still stressed."

"That's alright." He shook his head. "Maybe I'll visit the garden, get some air."

"You could return to your nap." Josephine said. "It has been a tiring time." She smiled small. "I apologize for awaking you. You were so far in the fade, you were singing." Zanrye raised an eyebrow. "In your sleep…you were talking but it had the touches of a melody to it."

Zanrye said nothing, his face heating. But not from embarrassment. His eyes looked forward.

"What did I say?" He asked her, voice lowering unintentionally.

"You said…something along the lines of… 'my love'… um…ven-aan? Something like that." She looked abashed. "I assumed it was a love ballad."

"Sort of…." Zanrye said, looking at his hands, nearly scoffing at the history that'd been unearthed by the relief he felt, by his clan avoiding sure annihilation. It made him want to smile though his face was un-moving. He debated, swallowing and glancing at Josephine who was perplexed by his shyness. "It's…it's a poem…song…elven."

"It is actually a song?" Josephine's eyes were wide.

"Yes." Zanrye gave her a small smile. He looked at his hands, ears warm, mind jumping to the victory today, and six days before, and four before that…. His promise kept. He gave a slight laugh that made Josephine giggle slightly. He sighed. "Would you…like to learn it?"

"Oh." Josephine was confused by his withheld speech and the tension he put on words that seemed far less grand. And his request was out of the blue. She did not yet know what calm, what warmth he felt in this moment. "I would be happy to…um…now?"

"If you feel like it." Zanrye said, eyes now on hers. The sudden intensity she saw in them made her give a near-visible shiver, but Zanrye felt the movements she hid.

"Alright." She giggled. "What is it called?"

"Love of The Soul," Zanrye said softly. He saw Josephine's eyes blink too many times, her posture becoming more gentle, her body drawing nearer to his by half centimeters.

"That sounds very nice." She said with a voice that didn't match her affectionate body language. "How does it start?" He hesitated, finding the words from somewhere in the back of his mind.

He recited, the 1-2-3-4 in his mind. He did not sing, not exactly. The words still came. And he found himself and Josephine both swaying to a beat that was nowhere but in their minds. He feels Josephine take his hand. And he could feel the weight of the song.

"Our trials are many, we've bridges to cross,"

"Our gains seem always exceeded by loss."

"In unison do our hearts bleed."

"But the love of the soul can see us freed."

"Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all."

"But open your heart and forever stand tall."

"Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see."

"And your soul you must let totally free…"

"My love…vhenan… elven…vhenan…."

"Awake our souls. Awake our souls."

"The love of the soul, we must obtain"

"Filled with the blood of others the same"

"Matching hearts willed by the Makers"

"For they made us for something greater"

"My love…vhenan…elvhen…vhenan…."

"In these vessels, we live. In these vessels, we die"

"Where you invest your love, you invest your life"

"Each…a piece. Each…a whole."

"Where you leave your heart, you leave your soul"

"Awake our soul."

"For we were made to love each other. We were made for something greater…."

* * *

9 YEARS EARLIER

TRAVELING (GREEN DALES)

Zanrye was up before Mima the next morning. She was surprised to see him, as she had to get to schooling and apprenticeship much earlier than hunting began.

"Hey Rye." She squeezed his shoulder as she passed. He was straightening the house.

"Morning da'len." He said.

"I didn't think you'd be up."

"Neither did I." Zanrye said, placing dishes in the sink. "Why didn't Nishia do this?"

"Nishia does not wash dishes," Mima laughed.

"Not wash, put them away." Zanrye sighed. "When she came to bed…she said she cleaned up."

"Well there wasn't any food or garbage." Mima shrugged. "She saved us from any stench."

"I guess." Zanrye grumbled, fetching water from their soap-water basin and dousing the dishes.

"Well, I'm off." She said. "Tell me how the talk went with Milan yesterday…when I come home tonight maybe." Her tone was casual.

"I will." Zanrye said, knowing full well Milan told her every detail already. As she made her way to the door, he spoke at her without stopping his cleaning. "But you might want to stop by the trading tent before you come home." Mima raised her eyebrows, confused. He turned to look at her. "Well Milan said that Omorasapi wanted to close the list soon. And I would rather we go to Halish with a group than on our own."

He turned away from her but spied her large, beaming smile form and then she charged his back and wrapped her arms around him. He pretended to be disgruntled and shooed her out. She thanked him about fourteen times and ran off to her lessons happier. Zanrye waited until she was gone before he too let a smile come to his face. A trip did sound very nice. With Milan especially. It was time to see about building bridges, moving forward. And if he managed to get over his paternal dislike of Milan, well…he might just be able to get our of this rut too.

He knew his father would want that.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

-STORY

The "Protect Clan Lavellan" Series. One of my favorite table-top missions

-ELVEN

Hahren: basically means elder or leader. Though Zanrye is only a few years older than them, he is assuming a parental role in Milan's eyes so he gives him the title out of respect

Make love with: what I mean to say here is to be nice, be friendly towards, become friends with

-SEMENTIC/NON SEMANTIC

The song/poem "Love of the Soul" is a remix of the Mumford and Sons song "Awake My Soul." The music is the same and only the verses are changed (though I've left a few lines the same as MaS fans will notice). In my canon, the song is taken from a poetic dialogue between a Dalish elf talking to a city elf (or an elf of another clan even). Talking about being united as one.

-NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Mima- (woman) sister

Milan- (man) sister's boyfriend

Dolan- (man) the Scout who interrupts everything and is everywhere. Official reporter scout


	22. Like A Virgin

[WARNING: Chapter contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity]

[NOTE: Sorry about the length. This is the longest one yet but it wouldn't be as funny if I cut it into two chapters. XD]

* * *

SKYHOLD

The day began like any other when Zanrye chose to spend the night within Josephine's embrace, something that happened a few times per week now. He got up after she did, as she was the overseer of the Inquisition. He woke to the smell of her and an emptiness where she was gone.

He would get up and dress and begin his duties once more. If he wasn't practicing new things with his mark or being kicked in the ass by Breaker Thram, he was being schooled by Josephine, lectured by Morrigan, worked with Cullen, and plotted with Lana. Cassandra had taken on some of the other burdens thankfully and Solas was his confidant and partner.

This morning, Zanrye stayed in bed a while longer, thinking of the previous night and the cuddling and murmuring that ensued. The question came as it had for days now: how long had it been since he'd been inside a woman? He was unsettled, not only because he knew it'd been quite a long time (not at all since he'd been here) but because he couldn't understand why Josephine hadn't asked him inside of her.

It had grated on his ego since she'd invited him into her bed and her into his, these past weeks. But more than that, it made him begin to question the journey of their sexual relationship itself. He had expected her to ask him to pleasure her since he'd undone her so at every turn; and the first night they shared…only maybe a full moon beforehand…he'd taken her to at least the clouds with only his hands. But still she hadn't asked.

Was it because she…was yet "innocent"? I'te'pala: never before having had sex? Did she choose to stay in the state that humans called chaste—a word for those who refused or were not old enough to embrace a lover physically?

He couldn't believe it but as the nights continued, he had to assume it was a possibility. It scared him. He did not have anything against the i'te'pala, who had yet to make their sexual debuts, but he had never been with one. And he knew that those who existed in the chaste state could have pains and complications when transitioning to sexual life—probably due to their suppressing creating their honey (the women) or heating their wood properly (the men).

His moping lessened after a time so he finally got up and walked out to attend to the matters of Skyhold. He met with Josephine, giving her a light, secret, kiss on the corner of her lips and then linked up with Cassandra. He was tired as he had been all week. He went from letters to training to overseeing more battle plans and organizing their "captured" areas. Morrigan joined him as usual and they spoke of the eluvian and what to consider. Cullen and he would need to discuss more battle plans. They would march very soon.

He was so engrossed, he did not see Cullen coming with two guards, looking tired.

"Commander?" He asked him, hoping it wasn't another breakdown over his thoughts to go back to lyrium and end his weakened state.

"Inquisitor." Cullen said testily. "There is this woman at the gate who refuses to leave, who made it all the way to the courtyard. I don't know how. She's elven, though. And she claims to have some sort of relation to you. I don't know. But my guards are watching her."

"Alright Commander." Zanrye sighed. And just after training too. He was tired and his hand was still buzzing. "Come with me. And summon Dorian and have him meet us out there so he can dispel any magic this woman may try."

He descended the steps with Cullen in his ear and Cassandra serving as his proxy in case this took too long. The upper courtyard was devoid of any strange presence so he suspected they'd detained her at the lower one. Good. Another headache over before it could start. He bowed to a couple of Chantry mothers and his instructor, who too was watching. He had only taken a few steps down the stairs, seeing the robed woman, most of her covered, but felt something familiar about her already. Maybe it was the stance. He couldn't quite place it. She was encircled by no less than seven guards who all had hands on their sword hilts and a mage who'd stopped to watch and make sure. Dorian arrived right as Zanrye did and instantly laid down a spell to suppress all magic in the area.

"Ho! The Inquisitor!" Cullen cried out and the guards all drew their swords, aimed at the robed woman who looked up to Zanrye steadily coming down the steps. She removed her hood now and laid her face bare for all to see.

And Zanrye nearly tripped, his eyes wide as he took her in.

"Dilys!?" He asked, his voice too loud for the slightly quiet courtyard.

Light eyes that were nearly the same color as his came to rest upon him. They belonged to the elven woman, skin dark, deep brown, the color akin to that of trickbread. Her face was smooth and decorated with blueness around her eyes and pale, red lip colorings. Her dark, black hair was tied above her head. Under the caped garb was a nice blue dress.

She turned her smile on him.

"Good thing." She said, her accent like most Dalish though she held no vallaslin. "I was beginning to lose hope that it was in fact you, Rye."

Zanrye went down the rest of the steps and came before the woman, not stopping as she embraced him daintily in her arms. She was almost exactly as he remembered her, though her eyes told of her aging, much as his own. He had changed a lot in the past years….

"Stand down everyone." Zanrye said to them, eyes never leaving the woman's whose own eyes held that same pleasant simple-ness to them that told all that she had nothing to hide. He turned his voice back to her, "how long have you been on the road? How did you figure the Inquisitor was me? I haven't even made a declaration."

"I was fortunate enough to encounter a few elves who said were whispering rumors of the Elven inquisitor with the marks of Sylaise upon his face. And you are the only such elven man I have seen with that." She explained and continued before he could speak. "I know there are others, but when there was mention of Clan Lavellan…well…I had to assume that it was you."

"I haven't seen you in…" he could not finish.

"It has been about five years." Dilys said. Zanrye shook his head, not understanding that such a gap had occurred.

"Let me get your things." Zanrye said instantly, realizing the situation. "Did you bring anything? I'll get your quarters set up near the castle where I can—"

"I won't be staying long, Zan." Dilys smiled ever the more. "I have my troupe to return to in a dozen eve's time or so. But I would gladly discuss the last few years—you have certainly done much in the time that we've been apart."

Zanrye nodded and motioned for the scout to get her single bag. He was going to escort her to her chambers and then sit down and have a meal or two with the woman who'd taught him nearly all he knew about sex and the one who'd been the closest thing he'd had to a "first love."

* * *

12 YEARS EARLIER

(TRAVELING) TEVINTER IMPERIUM

Her body was a wonder. The woman was dressed in purple silks with flowing tracks and wings that moved with her every twitch. Her eyes and mouth were red and her black hair was tied into several buns. She was barefoot and danced across a stage, performing for the crowd. Every day since Clan Lavellan arrived, Zan had gone and seen her perform. The woman was called the beautiful wildflower, performing dances similar to those done by the Dalish. But it was more erotic and catered to an audience of shemlen men and women who wanted to be titillated by such an elegant art form.

As the wildflower, whose name he knew was Dilys, connected their gazes, Zanrye smiled at her as he always did and clapped for her when her body contorted and her flips stopped her in a graceful, captivating stance.

His 19-year-old frame sifted through the crowd, his head down and people looking over him as another slave. He was dressed nicely, as always when going to see her. Ever since their first conversation, when she noticed how similar their eyes were, how odd it was that he championed Sylaise, and how intensely he stared at her, she waited on him.

Today was no different though change was indeed in the air. He arrived to find her now in a pleated dress and cape. She turned her grey eyes onto him and smiled a red smile, the makeup still present. He readied himself, anticipating and wanting, and she satisfied him with a kiss squarely on the lips, leaving a bit of her makeup on the side of his mouth where it was wet. She'd implied for more than kisses as they took their after-performance walks but Zanrye had always batted her off the subject, fear always getting the better of him. But today…today was too hot and she had too good a ploy.

"We can't go anywhere with me looking like a flame can we?" She asked, hands on her hips. Zanrye supposed not and reluctantly but excitedly let her drag him off no doubt to where she always went to truly change.

The building was an inn—nice and inconspicuous. It was hidden with male and female waiters serving the open eating and sitting areas; the bar and key booth were in the back. There were only elves here. He was led by his personal dancer to the key booth where she got him some ale and asked for the key to her room. Zanrye saw the other dancers around as well, coming out in perfectly ordinary attire but leading other people up the stairways or back into other rooms.

Zanrye had his suspicions as to her and the entire troupe's "other" service occupations and the scene here confirmed them. His pulse quickened as sex became more tangible.

She smiles at him as she walks with him to a room far in the back of the area. There was a nicely sized bed, a chair and vanity, and an armoire. Zanrye looked upon her as she sat at the vanity and began to take off the makeup, watching her reveal the more beautiful art underneath it.

"You realize you cannot deny me any longer, Rye." She smirked at him from the mirror. Zanrye stood with his hands in his pockets, looking shyly to the ground. She had a kind, mystical look and set down her instruments, her face clean. Zanrye couldn't breathe and the fear was back and he didn't know if he should say it or not. Her hands caressed his cheeks and those perfect lips kissed his chin tenderly. "Why does the halla run, huh?" One hand was already hooked around him, massaging his back in the way that she did which drove him crazy.

"Dilys." He begged her, still not looking at her but desperately wanting to. "I'm…not sure that I can do this."

"Do not fear your desires," She whispered, rubbing her lips along his. Zanrye knew then that he had to tell her. Before her next action took away all his resolve.

"I'm…I've never been… "loved" before."

He'd admitted it to her, the goddess of his days and nights, the dancer whose form and grace had ensnared all of his attention, the prostitute that made Zanrye understand what Po was talking about when he said he had reason to visit brothels for his "favorites."

He did not expect her response. Rather than rebuke him, mock him, or simply laugh at him, she just smiled kindly at him with eyes that twinned his own, pressing their bodies close together.

"Well, when we're done, you will have loved." She said in a voice that made him feel both anxious and hesitant of their course.

Her hands took each of his and placed them on her waist. He felt them hot against her frame and then her words came accompanied by kisses on his neck that had Zanrye standing at attention in seconds: "You've played with my emotions, my halla. It's time you gave back to me."

Zanrye's need for sex overriding his fear of inadequacy and displeasing his soon-to-be lover. He wrapped his arms tighter around her.

She had unbuttoned his shirt—when? She was telling him to step out of his clothes. _Mythal help me…_ She turned her back to him and whispered for him to come undress her, words motivating him as surely as any other means would have.

His breathing was loud. She did not acknowledge it, instead reaching back to wrap a hand around his neck and bring his body to touch her own.

"Go sit on the bed, unloved Zanrye." She whispers to him and Zanrye almost scrambles to do what she says. This was it. This was really it. This was…This was sex….

She teased him, and licked at his lips, guided his fingers to touch her lower lips, the wet making Zanrye's eyes go big and blood go hot. When she finally lowered onto him, Zanrye felt what he could only describe as one of the greatest feelings in the world. He knew his eyes were wide and big, his mouth slightly agape, the innocence slowly but surely leaving his eyes as he discovered the erotic territory adulthood offered up to him to explore.

She moved like she was dancing, whispering a graphic narration of what was happening to him. His body responded. _Gods…_. He sent breathless whimpers up to her and she slowed.

"Hold on. Not too fast, da'len, calm…not too quick." She said in a soft, far-away voice. Zanrye met her eyes, sweat on his forehead and expression pained. She slowly moved, very slowly. "Sway with me…" She began a rhythm that Zanrye tried to match. "Like that…follow me…" Zanrye followed her instruction, finding that their new pace gave him more control over his body. And with more control came more ability to act, to think.

He found himself pulling her closer to his body, securing her thighs around him, hands wrapping around her back. She obliged him and indulged him when he connected their lips for a deep kiss. A moan of satisfaction escaped him and her alike. He saw surprise enter her eyes.

"My halla…wants love." She breathed, as if just realizing that fact now. Something changed in her face and an underlying deepness came to her expression. "That's what you want, da'len?" Zanrye could not answer her yes or no coherently just yet and she did not wait for him to.

Because now she was going much too fast and pressing much too hard. He felt his breath catch in his throat and his arms held her. She wrapped her hands around his neck now, keeping their bodies pressed on each other's, nothing withheld—not flesh, nor tongue, nor spit, nor breath.

Zanrye heard himself whimpering. She begged, she ordered, she pleaded, she invited him to be in her and stay in her. He could only give murmured, childlike responses.

Zanrye felt himself going crazy, each nerve ending come to life as he was edged close to a precipice that he couldn't even discern the closer he got. But he knew—he knew he wanted to continue towards it, because the result would no doubt bring the satisfaction he craved—

And then she was digging her nails into his back, her cry broken and lovely at the same time, the sound sending him spiraling over the precipice. He felt as though he'd been punched and hit by a scorching pot that'd been boiling water before he turned into a blinded mess of emotions and was orgasming too hard to do anything but clutch onto her, biting his lip but not stifling any noise he himself made within their bedroom sanctuary.

There they sat for what felt like too long but also too short. Because when she left him, he was oddly wanting to be back with her. Her movements were deliberate. She stepped to her armoire and recovered a robe which she put on but did not close. He just watched her with nug eyes and a wanting expression. She gave him a small smile, unlike any others she had given before. This one was…very, very soft.

She laid down, urging him to do the same. He was a million pieces that were reconstructing back into Zanrye as he held onto her, fighting the urge to sleep and close his eyes. He wanted to look at her, and the space, and even himself. This was a changing moment.

"A man of the hearth." She said lightly, her hands never ceasing to comfort him. Zanrye smiled small at that and when Dilys kissed him, his smile was bigger. The thought struck him as she turned to lie with her back to him. He reached around her and onto the ground for his trousers. She inquired what he was doing.

"I'm…finding…my coin purse." He said tiredly. "Or I'll forget—I don't wanna forget to give you—" He was silenced by her firm hand pushing him away from the edge.

"You needn't." She said softly, wrapping his arm around her body and snuggling back. "You can get it for free…my halla." Zanrye did not answer at first. He hugged her tighter.

"I don't want to…get you in trouble…" He said uncertainly. She gave a slight laugh.

"My affairs are under no master but myself." She scoffed, fingers dancing on his arm. "A true finish is more than payment enough." She looked back at him. "Today was your first lesson, my innocent. Hopefully you'll return for another." At Zanrye's hurried and instant nodding, she giggled and settled back, giving Zanrye grounds to let sleep finally take him.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He sat across the table from the elven woman, a few inches shorter than he was. She was in a small dress of deep blue with a near bare face. She seemed to have done it for Zanrye, who had always favored more neutral colors and lack of cosmetics on her when inside a bedroom setting.

Zanrye was too amazed to relegate his excitement to see her to something sexual, however. He was too stunned at the fact that they were seeing each other again at all. It was not the first time it'd happened and for some reason, it felt like a type of sign.

"But we only rented out in Highever for less than three or so months." Dilys said to him, explaining over a tabletop of cards of varying designs. They were playing Eysgubo.

"You usually plant roots for at least half a year." Zanrye said, placing his cards.

"The Ferelden peoples are…much less amazed or wanting of theatrics and dance." She said lightly. "The only times we had much interest was when stragglers tried to come through The Inn and discovered it was more than in fact a restaurant."

"Did they hurt anyone?" Zanrye asked, concern thick in his voice. Dilys smiled.

"No, no. The guards had to quiet some rowdiness but that only happened once." She smiled. "After a couple of shemlens came in, we were shut down by way of voting, even though the Tyrn of Highever told us we could conduct business." She shrugged. "And so we were back in our rightful areas—Antiva, Tevinter, Orlais."

"And yet you're back here," Zanrye smiled, winning the round, "Eysgubo." He re-dealt. "Back on the edge of Ferelden."

"You're here." She said softly, smiling at him. Zanrye smiled back, shaking his head.

"You didn't come down to see me." He said. "You aren't even staying with me."

"When I heard you may be in the area, I had to see if it was true." She said. "And yes, we were already trying to gain an agreement in lower Orlais. It's been difficult with the situation between Celene and her cousin."

"We've taken that to heel now." Zanrye said. "And we can talk to Celene so you won't have any problems getting grounds to do business there." Her smile was nice and also impressed.

"So you have the power to move the shems now?" She appraised him, picking up her glass and drinking from it. It was just water.

"Well, the Inquisitor does." He replied, his own smile a bit shier.

"Such an important elf." She teased him. He let it roll off his back and shrugged.

"Just an elf trying to save the world." He said. "Close the sky, beat the enemy, give elves some perks while I'm at it."

"You don't feel alone?" She asked, winning the round. "Eysgubo." She leveled her eyes on him. "Surrounded by nothing but shemlen?"

"It almost broke me down a few weeks ago." He admitted. "But I managed to find an elven friend who I could talk to."

"I hardly see any elves here." Dilys commented calmly. "As opposed to shems."

"That'll change." Zanrye said quietly, to her or himself he did not know. She surveyed him.

"As have you." She commented. Zanrye looked up now, startled. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad one.

"How so?" He asked. She just gave a secretive smile. "How?"

"You look older." She said finally. "And you seem…even sadder now. Your eyes, I mean." She turned a sad eye on him. "You looked sad the last time I saw you—five years ago. Then, you told me you had lost your father…."

Zanrye's chest rose as he inhaled deep, reminded of the atrocity that occurred not yet a year ago. The pain of it was still in his memory, not yet a fog like all his other beloveds.

"My…best friend Ponawen." He told her. Her eyes filled with shock and dismay.

"The red-haired one?" She asked. When he nodded, she sighed and continued, "He was…always very funny, that one. Very good to you, certainly." She frowned now, eyeing him. "And thus, the reasoning for your somberness is revealed. You carry that like a weight."

"It's hard not to." Zanrye said lowly, eyes on the cards. She was going to get an Eysgubo, he saw. He met her eyes and saw them analyzing him.

"You are strong," She stated. "As you must be."

The chill settled on them while Zanrye steeled himself, pushing back the feelings he would have over Po for the next 3 or so years to come, until he numbed. She took their cards to count but instead of beginning, she reached over the table and grabbed his hands, holding them in hers. Warm, dainty. But they felt big around his own as she channeled comfort to him. He looked into those eyes so much like his and then remembered how much joy he had every time she and he had been united….

Cassandra appeared and made a noise which broke their spell. Zanrye gently took his hands back and inclined his head to his Second.

"Inquisitor." She said, then nodded at Dilys. "You are needed back in the war room. We need to organize the movements of our troops in Ferelden and Thram wishes to see you." She was staring at him oddly, glancing at Dilys. Zanrye nodded to her and stood, now looking to the beautiful dancer/prostitute.

"I'll leave an elven attendant with you at all times." He said to her. "If you need anything, ask. Your words will be mine while you're here."

Dilys stood as well, tucking her dress in redundantly, for it came back out a few seconds later. She walked over to him and looked to Cassandra.

"Am I not to accompany you?" She asked. "To get the tour?"

"I can assign someone for that." He said, having to grin. "I have to actually get to work—"

"As do I." She shrugged. "We both go to this war room and I will do the paperwork for my troupe as you strategize." She looked to Cassandra. "Unless of course, it's too secretive for my ears. I hope you know I would not blackmail you but I understand these matters are somewhat delicate."

Zanrye had to appreciate her gal. Cassandra's face was hard and she expected Zanrye to say no but he could not bring himself to do so.

"I think it'd be best if we strategize alone." He said. "But no, you don't have to work in your room. I'll see you to my office and you can work there."

"That is what I like to hear." She said. And as soon as she did, the sexual charge came to Zanrye. The situation was the same in life or in bed. She had taught him the dance of men and women and the natural order of things, something he'd already grown up with in elven culture but concepts she helped him solidify away from corrosive influence that plagued even the Dalish themselves. She was to be his equal, able to go where he went in nearly all things. And vice versa. They were joined, united even when separate.

But as the sexual pang came and they began their walk, he also felt another one—one of panic. He climbed the stairs and saw Josephine on the landing above, waiting for them to head to the war room. And suddenly, things felt horrifically awkward.

"Ambassador, this is Dilys, a good friend of mine," he said, gesturing. "She'll be staying with us a while and will be in my office when working. Be sure to relay it to the help."

"Of course." She nodded but Zanrye saw her eyes linger on Dilys's beauty, her short dress, and her easy posture around Zanrye. He left Dilys in the room and headed to the war room with his inner circle and wondered again…when was the last time he'd had a woman…and when would he get to have one next?

* * *

12 YEARS EARLIER

(TRAVELING) TEVINTER IMPERIUM

Though she refused to let him pay for sex as he was supposed to, Zanrye paid for it in other ways. The next time he saw her, he gave her jewelry and silks he'd bought. Zanrye did not let their relationship stay within a dark bedroom and he and she went out frequently. The days blended into each other and he even found himself falling asleep in her room if they happened to start sex late. He felt intoxicated by her. And each day was a lesson.

In a short time, he had done all the sexual things he could think of doing and those that had never before come to his mind. He'd had his mouth on every part of her imaginable and she on him. He felt tired but had to fuck her all the same. Only three days out of the week did he not have sex with his dancer, as he liked to call her. She was His Dancer and he was Her Halla. With these titles, they'd spend blissful days exploring each other and getting to know each all the better.

He'd been caught by Nishia. On his way back home one morning, she'd questioned him about the elf he was walking through town with. Zanrye had almost had a heart attack but Nishia had let him go. She knew he was going somewhere to court this woman, and Zanrye had a feeling she knew Dilys was a prostitute. She had started mocking but turned serious over time.

"You didn't come home earlier this week," Nishia had said bluntly. "It's not safe to stay there." By 'there' she meant where she knew he'd go to do his acts with Dilys: the brothel where he would be so exhausted he'd fall asleep. They never spoke the exact place, nor did they speak of Dilys by name or occupational title.

"It's only happened a few times." Zanrye said, talking to his shoes.

"It can't keep happening." Nishia said bluntly. "Spending the day is one thing but spending the night is opening yourself up to attacks by shems or their city elves. And with your face—"

"I could make them a target for guards." Zanrye finished for her. He knew this now and he cursed his championing of Sylaise for the briefest moment before he immediately took it back.

"I want you to be safe." Nishia said quietly. "I'm not your mamae. Nor your babae. But you need to make sure that…" she paused, "your visits…don't put your time or life in jeopardy."

"I understand." Zanrye said, eyes ever to his feet.

"And if you would truly like for your…walks…to not be noticed by others, stop going to the east where all of the clan visits." Zanrye glanced at Nishia as she spoke this. "You can do your business but I need to make sure you're not getting your head sucked up into the sky."

He understood and she did not interrogate him again. After this, there were sporadic times when he'd find freshly made wraps in the side of his bed posts. And they formed a silent agreement—he would see her before he left to town, casually mentioning he was going "west." But he kept this affair secret from anyone else in his clan. He did not tell them where he went everyday nor where he was coming from. If he did, he'd have to face Po's invasive questions and he'd already been through Nishia's initial mockery. But now she was his stability in this crazy affair. She would say subtle hints to straighten up and even cover for him. Several times, she'd end up making him tea and letting him sleep in her house when he came home too late to not be yelled at by his father. Nishia was all that kept him from being utterly consumed by this woman.

He knew Dilys saw other men on occasion. It was her profession. But she made him feel special. And anytime jealousy or insecurity came to him, all she had to do was say that no one was like him, her "halla" and Zanrye would succumb like putty in her hands.

But by the time they were a week into their affair, it was fair to say he was no longer a novice. His record for finishing her was a bit less than 12 minutes.

He also finished, but into a wrap unlike their very first sexual encounter. After the first time, she revealed that she ate herbs to prevent pregnancy but it was always better to wear a wrap. He should learn to wear one and get used to it—always being able to give himself pleasure while wearing one. It was something a man should know how to do. And although they needn't worry about any unplanned babies, the other women he would come to sleep with could not be expected to use methods that she did.

"Why do you think I'm going to sleep with other women?" He asked her after that lesson. Dilys got out from under him and pulled a pillow behind her head.

"Because you are a man now, my halla." She stroked his face and said. "And our lessons will not continue forever. You must build a home and I must hone my skill in my profession. Your future will not be with me."

Zanrye didn't like when she spoke like that and he quickly kissed her lips to quiet such talk.

But she was indeed right. And he knew his clan was moving soon. And, knowing that, he had gone to her chambers somber this particular evening, moping about it, not responding to her naked body with nothing but jewels on it or that she had brought in a large cushiony chair with no arms. She did not give in to his bad mood. Instead, she simply smiled at him and directed him out of his clothes and over her lap (his elbows and arms resting on a stool) and commenced to spank his bare ass with a wooden paddle. He bit his lip at the pain, her murmurings of his displeasing her having his face as red as his ass; he was already inflated after only two hits.

But when their ends came, his moping continued as outside world thoughts breached their space.

"Zan, you cannot fret over the inevitable." She said to him as he huffed. "Embrace what life has to offer. The Tevinter lands are not your last stop, nor mine."

"What if you just come with me then?" Zanrye said. "We've adopted people before, it'd be no different now." She had laughed at that.

"What in Thedas would make you think I want to join the Dalish?" She teased, cupping his bruised chin in her hands lovingly. "Or an alienage, or the shems. I have my world here."

"Well—you'd be with me," Zanrye said, indignant.

"And that would be the only benefit." She scoffed. "And why would I go to be with you…my halla?" Zanrye knew the answer to this already.

"It should be me going to you." He sighed. "But you wouldn't let me stay with you."

"Nor would you want to stay." She said softly. "You would not abandon your Clan for sex. At least, you shouldn't. Not when that resource is abundant many places." When Zanrye turned away, glaring, she had ordered his eyes back and he reluctantly obeyed. Hers were kind. "Often, these encounters are some of the sweetest things we can remember." She stroked his face. "And life goes on outside of affairs. I have no desire for the path you walk, nor would I desire you if you chose my path—for it is not who you are."

"I couldn't make it as a sex man?" He asked, jabbing. She laughed now.

"Well, you certainly have had a good teacher." She surmised. "But you…cannot just mate. You desire the moon and stars—the sun. You desire to be in love with mating. You would never be able to make a living as I do." She exhaled. "But your sex life does not need to end."

"But I don't think I'll find anyone like you, Di." He whispered.

"Perhaps not." She shrugged, wrapping her in his embrace. "But it is my belief you will find someone "good"…and perhaps, hopefully, better." Zanrye didn't believe her and two days after this night, his Clan departed from Tevinter and he thought he was never to see his dancer again.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He'd risen early the past two days that Dilys was with them and could be found with her somewhere near him at random times during the day. She even invaded his training, which was taking place today, practicing her dancing performances in the same area as he was rebuilt by Thram. He wore pants but no shirt when he did this and her own outfit mirrored his, with coverings only to hold her breasts in place. The two of them did this for a little over an hour before he was allowed to rest.

He threw himself back onto the grass, gasping. The sky above him was blue, though the slight tinge of green remained. It would always remain until Corypheus was defeated.

And then she was in his sight, standing above him in a way that was sure to arouse him if he kept looking. But he had been trying not to look, not to touch, to keep their meetings pleasant. He was with Josephine—they were together. And she meant everything to him. She deserved everything. And yet…Dilys's return was too coincidental and his memory was instantly clogged with what they would have been doing had Josephine not been in the picture.

But he didn't want Josephine to not be in the picture. That might be why whenever these thoughts came into his mind, Josephine's face, or body, or voice accompanied them.

"You delay." Dilys said to him. He sat up, watched as she sat beside him, and gave her a questioning look. She returned with that small smile and he knew her hand was coming before it in fact did. She reached out to touch his sweaty chest, palm open, fingers gently massaging. His instinct was to kiss the hand, maybe bite on the middle finger's tip. He resisted, his hand coming over hers.

"I'm not delaying anything." He said, indicatively. She gently removed her hand and eyed him, her look wispy yet deep.

"We've never waited more than day before pala." She said. Her face was close to his and he moved back only a fraction but she caught onto it and stopped her moving forward, drawing back. She waited for him to explain. When he didn't, she spoke. "I almost thought to go to your chambers last night." Zanrye's heart beat in his chest, realizing that Josephine had been in his room that previous night. How much disrespect would that have been to her? "I decided to wait for you to come to me…."

"As a man should." He finished for her, smirking. She returned the smile, her eyes edged again. Zanrye held the stare a moment and realized she might actually try to "dance" in this field here. He inhaled and looked around, nervous.

His eyes landed on Josephine, whose walking was slower now as she took in the scene before her: the scantily dressed elf sitting less than three inches from a shirtless Zanrye, smiling and looking in his eyes. No matter if that was incriminating or not, it still made Zanrye jump up instantly, wiping his hands on his pants. He felt criminal enough….

Josephine was in her own airy dress, a dark blue she knew he liked on her skin. Her hair was tied up high on her head and she held a flask in her hands for him. She was coming to see about him. It touched Zanrye, as it probably always would. But in this case, it also made him feel even worse about he and Dilys. Her eyes went to Dilys, who was standing, her eyes on Josephine. Zanrye's neck felt like it had sunburn and he reached out for the flask.

"Thank you." He said appreciatively to Josephine, not looking in her eye and throwing his head back to drink the water—anything was better than looking at both women as they sized each other up in their small, sweet ways that looked polite.

"Are you going to be training for much longer?" Josephine asked him, her face unreadable save for a slightly suspicious eye that glanced towards Dilys again.

"This was the end." He said to her. "I still have to go see about Sera today but I don't know when I want to deal with that headache." Josephine gave him a small laugh.

"When will any of us be ready for that?" She said and then her eyes went to Dilys, who smiled back, hers the exact same as Josephine's. "You have requested a meeting with the empress's man yes?" Josephine asked her after a time. "Ambitious, to perform near the capital."

"Yes." Dilys said kindly. "But I am sure we are ready for the challenge."

"And you all handle these matters yourself?" Josephine asked her.

"I serve a double purpose in the organization," Dilys responded. "In fact, I'm the ambassador for my dancing troupe in that way." Josephine smiled politely and then turned back to Zanrye.

"I will be handling affairs for my family this evening, Inquisitor." She said, adopting their formal names since Dilys was in their presence—and an outsider. "I will be in my office after mid evening if you have need of me. Also, I believe that Tiana is back from her visit to Orlais and is requesting you."

"Oh, I've been waiting for her. I'll go to her." Zanrye said instantly. Josephine nodded and there was a millisecond pause where Zanrye thought of all the things that he could have done for her, to her, and all the things she may have wanted, all that she may have needed in reassurance, to dispel suspicion. Her eyes were barely noticeable as they slipped to Dilys and back again before she bowed her head, turned, and left Zanrye and Dilys to stand there in the field. Zanrye didn't move for a moment then turned back as Dilys put her hand on his arm, smiling at him.

"Tiana?" She asked him, a light grin on her face that was full of unraveling.

"She's my elven comrade here." He said loosely, giving her a small smile and then turning to face her. "So do you want to come see her too?"

Dilys's face did not reveal anything as she stared at him before she finally nodded, her face kind once more and her hand affectionately squeezing his arm before she kept a respectable distance (meaning about half a foot if that) between them as they made their way up to his office.

Zanrye wanted to feel happy like when he'd first seen her. He wondered again why he hadn't told her they wouldn't be sexing while she was here, wondered why he didn't tell her that he was taken. He had never been taken when she was around. It was strange, it felt wrong, for her to be here with him and not on top of him or beneath him, or using him for all her pleasures. But he could not do such a thing, certainly not to Josephine…. She was…too special to him. His mind went back to why, why she didn't want him to have sex.

But even batting Dilys off felt wrong. Dilys was special to him, always would be, and she did not deserve this secretive, leading behavior. It was no way to treat someone, especially a woman. But even if they didn't sleep together…something scared him about telling her he was taken. It wasn't even that Josie was a shem (not mostly). It was…something deeper. He couldn't place it at first but as he saw Tiana and she flirted as he entered the room and he rolled his eyes and introduced the two, he realized that he was worried what would happen to their beautiful harmony if something changed about his position—if he revealed that he was of a different emotional state.

Each time they'd encountered each other, it was the perfect time for them to act on their sexual chemistry—for them to communicate with each other as no one else could communicate.

But emotionally at least, someone else had found a form of communication for him: Josephine. She was able to speak his language in affection…in…deep affection. And what would acknowledging that do to the balance that he and Dilys had always had? And could he afford to disrupt that balance, losing yet another "friend"—if not through mortal wound, through social cutting of that which tied them.

But not saying anything made him feel…seedy. Because he knew he was lying to her in a way, and not giving Josephine what he knew that she was worth, not representing their union in the way it deserved to be. And it was all coming to a head…he could feel it….

He knew she sensed something when he saw his bed vacant that night. He was almost annoyed at her reaction to his being busy and taken with Dilys but knew he couldn't blame her. This was not a Nishia situation. There was palpability to his tension with Dilys. He tried to settle into his own bed but felt loneliness come to him and soon he yearned for her so bad that he had to give in, throwing off his covers with a resigned growl. His needy feet walked down the stairs to Josephine's quarters, coming in slow like a shy animal. He slipped into her bed and laid down beside her frame, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. When he felt her slowly but surely let him encompass her torso, he took his liberties and brought them closer together, exhaling into her. His loneliness slowly left him as he did so, feeling content yet impatient with the cuddling, feeling their bodies fit in together so right…but wondering how much of a match they'd be… even deeper. He wished he knew. He wished Josephine would let them know.

"Ma'fanor." He whispered to her, one arm around her torso, the other wrapped under both her thighs as she curled into a semi-fetal position. She said nothing for a time as his chin nuzzled her hair and his arms held her in a strong grip. But her own affection was there too. And he felt her cuddle backwards to him.

"Prince." She responded and he kissed her head, filled with happiness. He pulled them as close as he could and let the fade take them, the question only at the back of his mind—but still there. He was resolved to set things in motion soon, tomorrow maybe, or the day after…but soon.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"You should tell her." Dorian insisted as Zanrye went over papers in his office, distraught.

"Yes, it's isn't a question of that, Dorian." He shot back at the man. "It's what to say."

"Tell her the truth." Tiana shrugged. "You won't get out of this lightly if you don't."

He had summoned them both and spilled the beans after a little probing. He was more nervous than he could ever remember being about something as trivial as words. He sighed and leaned his head back at the desk, contemplating.

"Look, take it from a love expert." Dorian said to him. "If you hide this any longer, it becomes a lie, or a secret, and as soon as it transitions into that, well you can very well expect to be in between two angry women that would probably give the darkspawn a scare."

"It's not a secret, it's…." Zanrye stopped, knowing his protests only supported Dorian.

"Take it from a woman, Inquisitor." Tiana said. "If you felt the need to hide this, it means you are guilty about it. And you being guilty to yourself makes you guilty to us. And no lame excuse like, "I didn't think about it" or "I didn't think it was a big deal" will fool us."

"Precisely." Dorian said. "It trivializes the argument into really meaning: 'why is this so important to you? It isn't to me.'"

"Not to mention that existing in secrecy also creates a space to support the ideas that you're oathbreaking." Tiana added.

"I'm not!" Zanrye said instantly.

"But maybe you are emotionally…or maybe you're considering it. Maybe you still have feelings for this woman, deep ones you can't let go of, to rival those you feel for your shem." Tiana crossed her arms. "All of these will be on the Ambassador's mind. And Dilys' too."

"Alright alright." Zanrye grumbled. "I get it."

"So your next course of action?" Dorian asked. The two of their accusatory eyes weighed down on Zanrye until he finally looked away. He paused a moment longer.

"I…need to see the war council." Zanrye said, mouth tight.

"Really?" Tiana rolled her eyes but Zanrye stubbornly left the room.

* * *

6 YEARS EARLIER

ORLAIS

He was at a tavern on the edge of the city when the figure passed over his vision. Zanrye narrowed his eyes and nudged Ponawen to tell him he'd be back. There was something too familiar about the pattern of that outfit. He'd seen it before. Way back in Tevinter.

He saw it slip again out of the corner of his eye and stopped in his tracks. He was being stupid. It was probably a trick of the light. He went back towards Ponawen to finish his drink. Maybe he'd had a little too much as well. When he and his friends decided to get on the road (or in Ponawen's case, visit the whores) Zanrye made his way outside of the tavern and onto the roads that led to the dirt path that would take him back in to camp.

He glanced back, just to see if they left anyone when he saw the dress again. And the woman in it. And his feet took him in the direction of the woman setting up the tents with her troupe and he didn't hesitate to come behind her and whisper in her ear.

"M'lady." He said and Dilys turned around, her surprise quickly replaced by her affection and he saw that she was struggling to contain her mirth and stop herself from kissing him.

"Halla." She greeted him.

"Dancer." He replied in kind, eyes locked on hers. He felt the heat come to him and wanting nothing more than to rip her clothes off, push her legs apart, and hear her moans as they sampled one another once more.

Her demure posture, with commanding eyes, told him that she wanted the same.

"I did not expect to see you in Orlais." She said.

"We travel a lot." He said to her, voice husky. "I think we're building up for a long-term settlement…this time."

Dilys did not respond, instead turned to her second helper, a man, and told him she would be back and would go talk to the Duke (whoever was Duke of this area). She nodded to Zanrye, walking forward and expecting him to follow. And he did. He followed her away from the tents and the lights and the building they would be renting. He followed her to the edge of the town, away from all prying eyes, to the long river where the sunset was the nicest. There were probably people farther down, where the stream was stronger, but not here.

And here is where she wrapped her arms around his body and let him cup her face and kiss her hard and tender at the same time. They went down into the bed of common flowers and grass, the sounds of waters rushing past their ears. He laid her gently, kissing her how he could recollect she liked, his memory pulling up the necessary information.

She ran a hand through his hair how he liked, hands on his chest or back, giving him the contact he always craved. They had learned each other's bodies for weeks and now was their test to show just how good of students they were.

And prove themselves they did, with Zanrye holding one of her thighs in his grip, his other arm supporting himself—near her head. She kept one hand on his back, the other on that same arm that supported his weight. They barely closed their eyes—only doing so when they had to.

They ended up just laying there, naked in the grass. Two passerbys hurriedly going the other way when they saw them. That made them laugh. But it did not take anything away.

"Ar lath ma." He told her.

"My heart feels for you as well, Halla." Dilys smiled coyly.

"Enough to…bind with me?" He asked. Dilys looked down.

"You know I cannot…." She said. "I have other duties…and cannot give you what you are due."

"A girlfriend is what you make it." Zanrye told her.

"Yes…" she said quietly. "And I wish to make it in a way that would be impossible right now." She kissed his cheek. "We deserve better…."

"Alright." Zanrye was disappointed but shook it off. "Then I'll settle for my beau."

"Of course." Dilys grinned at him, nuzzling her head on his shoulder and laid with him there, his hand protectively around her waist, until the stars came out.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"Josephine." Zanrye followed the Ambassador as she came from the gates, having just been to talk to yet more of the Inquisition's "allies" who always had their hands out. She smiled as he approached. He took stride beside her as they made their way back to the castle.

"How are the troops looking?" She asked him.

"As good as they can. Should be good in a week." He replied. "And our esteemed allies?"

"They will cooperate and we have received more supplies from Highever, to aid us." Josephine said. Zanrye nodded. They were approaching the lower landing and he subtley brushed her arm.

"Maybe we take a detour?" He asked her. Her face was blank and then she understood and nodded as he began to walk to the right. They passed troops, merchants, and other members of the Inquisition, bowing their heads this way and that, before they were at the edge of the gardens which, at this time of day, were of course filled—though he specifically ordered for them not to be. Zanrye cursed himself for not anticipating this and looked around. The two "servants" he'd hired were waiting for him, baskets in hand, expressions of helplessness on their faces.

"The ramparts." Josephine said beside him. "For privacy."

The ones right above them. Zanrye nodded to her and motioned to the two men and they ascended the stairs in on the side of the open courtyard, standing over the whole of the Inquisition though too far back to be seen. It was a nice day today, as it had been all week. To think of the danger on the horizon….

"You did not wish to speak in my office?" Josephine asked him. He turned his attention to her and gave a small, somewhat forced smile.

"Well with all that's going on, we'd never get privacy in there." He remarked. "Scouts and messengers and soldiers going in and out." Josephine looked down and he knew what his information would mean to her and when her eyes came to his, they held bashful confidence that put a smile on Zanrye's face. She walked closer to him, clipboard to her chest, wrapped up by her arms.

"I suppose you did not wish to speak of our affairs then." She said lowly, looking at him through her lashes. He shook his head, warmed by her cute sultriness.

"Not necessarily." He smiled. He saw the men come up and he motioned. Josephine looked as well as one was loaded down with all of the baskets and supplies and the other was dragging up a small bench, making a fair bit of noise as he did so. Which was exactly what Zanrye didn't want. He glared at the man.

"What part of inconspicuous didn't you understand?" He asked, throwing out his arms.

"I tried but there's no way to get up sitting arrangements…" He said, out of breath.

"A lunch?" Josephine asked him. He looked to her and nodded meekly. She laughed. "You could have gotten one of the mages to spirit it up here."

"I had wanted the eastern garden cleared." Zanrye said, glaring at his feet.

"Well if he has already taken up the bench, there can be no more harm in bringing up a table now as well." Josephine said to the man. He looked to Zanrye.

"You heard her." Zanrye said and the man rushed down. Zanrye looked to the other. "Watch for people who'd want to come to this area now there's been a ruckus."

"Inquisitor." The man bowed. In a few minutes, there was a bench and a table and dishware which decorated the top, alongside meat and bread and juice. Josephine took a piece of dried fruit and bit into it, glancing at him with a small smile.

"What is all of this for darling?" she asked him, seated at his side. "You could have asked me and we could have arranged for elsewhere."

"It was something spontaneous." Zanrye shrugged, smiling at her. "Small. Just wanted to have a few minutes with you…outside of bustle but not too far if we're needed."

Josephine didn't respond, only leaned in to lightly kiss his lips, scooting so that their hips touched. She smiled and picked up a fork and Zanrye followed suit. Their chatter was of Josephine's family, of Zanrye's clan and any word he'd received. It was of news of the council and jokes about the members of the Inquisition. It was about Dilys.

"And she is a friend from your clan?" Josephine asked. "She lacks the face tattooing." Zanrye took a drink of his juice, not making eye contact. The topic was here.

"Sort of." He said. "She isn't Dalish…. Just met her…a long time ago. We um…we met at one of her shows and I really liked her dancing and…um, she found it funny I championed Sylaise."

"Hm." Josephine said, her voice neutral, eating another piece of bread. Zanrye felt the awkward silence behind her polite musings and he knew he needed to speak. He tried to will himself. _Come on coward, come on—_

"Zan, sometimes…—I know it is foolish to feel this way," Josephine began, giving a disclaimer and saving him from having to speak about his past. She was hesitant, "but I feel unsteady when I consider how I feel about you." Zanrye waited, eyes wide and wishing he had spoken if only to stop from hearing something he didn't want to. She looked at him, wiping her mouth with a cloth. "When it comes to thinking of you—or missing you, at random times…and not knowing quite why. And I admit, our …new…sleeping arrangements only serve to fuel this." Zanrye had to give a slight laugh at that. She continued, eyes clouded and hand lightly trailing over his own. "I've never yearned to…be around someone…apart from my family and perhaps Leliana…like I have you." She eyed him coyly. "I don't…really know why I brought it up." She shook her head, moving her hand. "I just…you came to me today just as I had begun to think of you…."

Zanrye said nothing, blinking at this unexpected confession from Josephine. She quickly put more bread in her mouth, eyes out on the sky before them. Zanrye felt his heart beat harder. She was saying… _Have I become family to her? Does she feel the emptiness without me that I feel without her?_

"Well…I'm…fine with you feeling hooked—especially with our sleeping arrangements," He said, causing her to laugh. He moved his hand beneath her chin, having her look at him. Her eyes sent fire through him. _She's worth everything_. "I want you at my side just the same…."

"And I will be." She said kindly, her eyes big and blinking into his. And then all awkwardness and thoughts of what he should have been saying—what he prepared this meal to say—were dashed as he kissed her passionately, attempting to express himself through this one interaction. She drew back from it, still hip to hip, and and smiled at him; he formed a grin.

"Just one?" He said, taunting. "You know I need more than that, Josie."

"Zanrye!" She chided him playfully as he kissed her mouth again and then kissed her neck, poking her sides as he wrapped her up in his arms. She gave a louder laugh at his tickling hands and halfheartedly struggled in his grip as he planted kisses on her.

"I like us being hooked." He said through his nuzzling and kisses, teasing her and pulling her more into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and now just laughed her sweet, musical laugh, no longer pretending to fight it. Zanrye wanted to run with her, then. He wanted to chase after her down the steps and through the whole Inquisition and into the woods beside them. He wanted to see her over-skirt flowing, feet clomping and hair come undone as she ran with nearly closed eyes and a smile. And when he caught her….

 _I'll have her crying my name out then, too. Only louder._

"Ahem!" Came the man's voice and Zanrye knew who it was as Josephine shimmied off his lap and onto the bench, hands crossed at her knees. Zanrye glared at Scout Dalon and one of the servants.

"I couldn't stop him sir." The servant panted. "He walked right past me—"

"Why haven't I fired him?" Zanrye asked Josephine who merely swatted him with her hand, inclining her head for him to go. He got up heavily and walked over to him. "This had better be important Scout or I—"

"Solas says it's urgent. About news from your camp." Dolan said. "I assumed he meant your clan sir so—"

"Thank you." Zanrye said. "You are dismissed."

"Inquisitor." Dolan saluted and was off. Zanrye watched him go and turned to Josephine who now chuckled as he rolled his eyes at her. He walked to her and kissed her cheek.

"I'll have the servants clean this up." He said. "I will see you tonight?"

"Of course." She replied and left Zanrye to rub his forehead and walk down to see Lana about whatever new people had come to their encampment.

* * *

5 YEARS EARLIER

ORLAIS

"I did not lie." Dilys said to him sternly. He glared at her, withholding his urge to yell that she indeed did lie.

"You were supposed to stay here—"

"For a year, no more guaranteed." Dilys said to him calmly. He wanted to hit her for being so calm about this but knew he would never. He paced, battling tears and rage.

"Why?" He asked, voice low and dangerous. "Why won't you just stay with me?"

"Because that is not the life for me, my halla." She stressed to Zanrye's ever-moving figure. "I go where my troupe goes, where we can find work. I must move on. We had hoped for more years but it was not so."

"We already lost each other once." He said through gritted teeth. "And now you're going to walk away from me again."

"It was not me who walked away last time halla." She said bluntly and continued over him as he opened his mouth to speak. "And though I urged you to go, I did not do so with ill intent. As you know." He shook his head, refusing to look at her. Her face softened and her hurt began to show. "Zanrye…I knew we were due to move…in some manner of time…and I cannot take you with me nor can I go with you. That is why we cannot bind, be lovers anywhere but the intimate space of our shelter. Those paths are unavailable to me."

"Because you choose for them not to be." Zanrye shot at her.

"Yes." She agreed. "Because I chose to devote my life to dance and art and maybe leaving the world a bit more spiritual before my path ends—"

"You don't have to." Zanrye said. "I'm offering you something else. And it's not asking you to follow me, it's asking you to try something new."

"The course you speak of, I've already tried, Rye." She said softly. Zanrye did not understand and waited for more but she continued on a different thread. "Zanrye, sit." He did not move. "I asked you to sit." He reluctantly did so, still not looking at her. "I will not give you what you desire. What we both desire to some degree. And I know that you hold me dear in your heart and that makes me so incredibly happy. And I hold you in my heart as well. You will always have a space here."

"But?" Zanrye cut her off, something he would never have imagined doing for something so serious but he did so anyway. There was a pause as Dilys composed.

"But," she said hardly then softened again, "you…my halla…require a hearth. Hunter that you are… you are bound to the hearth and I to the creations and crafts of this world. I cannot give you a hearth. Any hearth I did would be temporary at best. And not just as a whore…or a performer… but as myself—as Dilys. I can give no hearth even if I wanted to. And my halla, you do make me want to." His eyes shifted to her, hope peeking through the anger and hurt. "But it cannot be. Certainly not now." There was a pause. Then she continued. "I know this will scar you…but do not let it jade you. Look at what we have and see it as a tool for you to build a hearth with. Look upon it as a beautiful experience you will cherish forever—but not be defined by. Use it to strengthen the hearth you will build, whoever it may be with. But do not let it be a reason for that hearth's destruction." There was yet another silence. This one, Zanrye spoke into. His face was flushed and his voice was soft, anger intermingling with fear.

"There may not be a third chance for us, Dilys." He said, looking at her. She gazed at him with knowing and that humble wit and intuition that usually turned him on. And she leaned closer to him now, face open and hiding nothing.

"That's very true my halla." She said. "But fearing the future…should not justify…or be the reason for the decisions we make in the present." Her eyes were soft. "If there's one thing I want you to learn from my world, my halla, it's that life is most meaningful and worthwhile when we create our futures. And not let the perceived future create us."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Dilys came to his office as the sky was finally darkening, a few hours after he began to write responses. He saw her come in and readied himself. She was in a wavy dress, leggings a deep green and dress a complimenting purple. She smiled at she walked in with a look on her face that could mean many things. Sex being one of them.

She didn't even answer him when he sat up and made to stand. She held up her finger, stopping him in his action and came around his desk to sit on the front of it, facing him. Her calfs were on his lower thighs and she leaned forward so her hands were on his shoulders.

"Why have you not come to me?" She finally asked him. Zanrye found he couldn't speak for a moment. She waited. He cleared his throat.

"We actually, um…have to talk." He said slowly.

"I asked you a question. Please answer it." She said simply, small hands still on his front, legs rubbing against him. He exhaled and then grabbed her hands in his and gave them back to her.

"Because I'm with someone right now." He said slowly. The information did not seem to surprise her and she nodded, her eyes still holding that glint.

"Is it the ambassador?" She asked. Zanrye was so shocked that he actually gaped and Dilys finally laughed, her glint gone. She crossed her legs but did not move from her position on his desk. She waited for him to answer.

"I…yes." Zanrye said. "How did you know?"

"Process of elimination." Dilys shrugged. "You didn't fuck me so it must be that there was either problems with your body, which would not stop you from giving me pleasure, or another person to consider. I found it was not Tiana—too brazen. Clearly not Sera, she prefers women. Then I started thinking of non-elven women since that is the biggest pool here. And I only had to see the Ambassador, and then see your reaction to her encountering us in the field that day in order to connect the dots."

Zanrye nodded as she spoke, looking to the side, hand over his mouth in contemplation. Shame at his attempts at deception came to him—as well as the race of his choice. _Will I ever be unashamed of her being a shem?_ That was a hard question to answer.

"An odd choice for one so…Dalish." Dilys commented.

"I'm sorry for not telling you." He said to the wall, fingers slightly muffling his words.

"You were afraid." Dilys surmised. "I have not encountered you…bound before. Unaware of what to expect. But now you have behaved as a man. As I and I'm sure she deserves." Zanrye said nothing to that, making eye contact with Dilys again who merely smiled small down at him, a hint of sorrow at the edges of her eyes. He raised a questioning brow as her expression turning secretive, his own eyes becoming shy. She shook her head, giving a small scoff, and smiling kindly before speaking. "She looks like me, don't you think?"

Zanrye said nothing for a moment and then he looked at Dilys—how he had tried not to look at her for this past week and a half. And he began to take her in…and realized she did in fact look similar to Josephine. Very similar.

The hair was the same color and nearly same texture. Eye shape was spot on. Their skin was about the same, Dilys' only a tad bit darker this time of year. They both had a perky bottom lip and Dilys's ass, though not quite as Josephine's, was more rounded and plump than the standard elf—and looked even bigger on her agile frame. But there were differences. She was much shorter than Josephine—three inches shorter than Zanrye. Her nose was not hooked in the way Josephine's was. And her breasts, in contrast with her ass, were smaller than the standard elf whereas Josephine's were on par with, if not a bit bigger than the other shem women.

"I did not come for anything more than what we had, Zanrye." Dilys said to him after his silent ogling of her. "Nor will I leave with you removed from my heart because of your predicament." She rubs a hand through his hair when he gives her a "yeah-yeah" sort of look. "I respect what you have become, my halla. I love what you have become. And will always hold you dear. Nothing will change that. It's not you paladahl I love," Zanrye chuckles, "I love you for who you are. And the man that you are, and the respect that you have shown your woman today." He gives her sad but hopeful eyes and she kisses his forehead. "I have already said it before…I am not one for the relationship you crave. But," she grins, "I'm sure that if she was good enough to win over your Dalish heart, my shem double might be able to give that to you."

Zanrye smacked his lips, giving her a teasingly disapproving look that makes Dilys laugh. He laughs along with her, relief like no other coming to him. It was fine. Everything was fine. She was still his friend, his first love, his Dancer. And nothing had changed that.

He barely noticed Leliana enter the room but when he did, he jerked in his chair, sending it scraping on the stones. Dilys looked as well, not moving from her position still.

"Inquisitor." Leliana said, voice and eyes like a demon. And time seemed to freeze as reality hit. Zanrye's heart thudded in his chest and he looked from Dilys to Leliana and slowly his hands came up in front of he and Dilys, in a defensive position, as if warding off an animal…or a killer.

"Leliana…" he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "I…we were…" at her cool stare, and unmoving body, Zanrye's bladder threatened to open. "Leliana—I can—"

"Josephine was looking for you." Leliana said bluntly. "Assumed you'd be in your room—brought you tea." She glared daggers at Dilys. "I'll just tell her you were preoccupied."

AS if things could not get any worse, the turn of events beckoned an even greater storm than just his impending death. Now he would torture possibly before Leliana beheaded him, the torture coming from Josephine. He recalled what Tiana said…about secrecy…and oathbreaking… _Shit_. Zanrye became even more scared, if that was possible.

"Leliana—" he stood but she was gone. He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead.

"You didn't…" Dilys asked.

"Tell Josephine? No." Zanrye shook his head. "Planned to today but…no." He sighed again.

"And the shem at the door?" Dilys asked.

"Her best friend, bodyguard, caretaker." Zanrye spat out. Dilys eyed him. "The spymaster who's going to murder me tonight." Dilys gave a small smile which Zanrye glare at her.

"I suppose you should speak with her now then." Dilys says. "Though your spymaster may beat you to it."

"Oh she will." Zanrye said. "But if I make it to Josephine alive, that alone will be a miracle." Dilys's laughter followed him out of the door and down to Josephine's room.

Zanrye went to Josephine's room and braced as he opened the door. Josephine was sitting in her armchair, her expression blank, and Leliana stood before her. As he came in, Zanrye couldn't help but flinch as Leliana turned toward him, blocking his chest/throat area, expecting an attack. There was silence as he recovered and put his hands down, feeling foolish but watching her.

"May we have a moment, Leliana?" Josephine asked. The spymaster did not move for a moment, sizing Zanrye up, and then walked past him and out the door, eyes never leaving him. Zanrye watched her the entire time, never putting his back to her, and fought the urge to shudder with relief and fear when she was finally gone.

"You…may explain." Josephine said into her lap, her voice curt but her face meek. Zanrye gazed at her and hated himself for putting that mistrustful look in her eyes but spoke.

"It was a misunderstanding." Zanrye began but when Josephine's face jerked up and he saw the skeptical pout, he knew he started wrong. "No, no. Wait—what I mean…is…" he exhaled, shaking off nerves, "What I mean is…that…Dilys is a woman who used to be my lover." This statement seemed not to surprise Josephine but her mouth was tight. "That was many years ago. And she is also a friend to me. But that is all. In the office…I don't know what Leliana has told you, but she was just sitting on my desk, which looks bad I understand, but we were discussing…nothing…that is…unfaithful or…or anything—"

"Do you still love her?" Josephine asked, her eyes accusatory and face a frown. Zanrye's eyes grew wide. He almost hesitated. But he knew what that could do.

"No. Josephine. I don't." Zanrye said to her. Josephine seemed to mull this over; she did not quite believe him…and he continued, taking a step closer. "I'm not lying to you." He was in a way he thought, for he did "love" Dilys still—but not in the way that Josephine truly meant or needed to hear about.

"Why did you not tell me of your history?" Josephine's voice was becoming lower, though still matter-of-fact.

"Because I…I didn't know how to approach it." Zanrye said. "Because I've never…been in this type of situation before." _I've always been free to get some pala on in the past so this is new._ Josephine probably didn't need to hear that. "I mean…Dilys isn't…there isn't any ill between us so to be friendly to her…around you…I've…I mean…you know?" Josephine didn't answer. But she continued on.

"Did you…have you been intimate with her?" She asked.

Zanrye cursed Tiana and Dorian for being correct again and again.

"No!" Zanrye said and he saw Josephine look away. He moved right beside her, lowering himself eye level. "Josie…no, no, no. I wouldn't. Not to you. What happened between us was a long time ago. Things are over between us." She seemed to appreciate the words but her eyes did not meet his. He kept on. "I'm not seeking to sully our bond, Josephine. I want you. You know that…right?" Finally, Josephine responds, nodding slowly but genuinely. "Dilys will be around but will not be at Skyhold for much longer—"

"You needn't put her out on the streets." Josephine said instantly.

"She moves to her troupe." Zanrye assured her. "She is not on the streets." Josephine eyed him and said nothing. He felt a twinge of panic. "You believe me, don't you?" She said nothing and then her furrowed brow turned on him and she nodded slowly. "I'm telling you the truth, Josie."

"Don't…don't let women sit on your desk…in that way." Josephine whispered, almost like an embarrassed young girl. Her voice was hushed, "Please."

"Alright." Zanrye said. "It won't happen again." Silence. "Josephine, you don't have to worry about anything. Nothing is happening between Dylis and I. Nothing. I swear. I promise." At his promises, Josephine finally relents and looks into his eyes, a playful pout on her face.

"Okay…"

"You don't have to worry." He said again, hands on both sides of her face.

"Well, she was very pretty." Josephine said in her defense, almost amused. Zanrye eyed her, remembering Dilys's words earlier. And unlike in the training field, he had common sense to fill the gap where assurances were needed.

"Yes she is." Zanrye said, leaning close. "But you are more so." That seemed to be the cherry on top. Josephine finally smiled small, rolling her eyes and hugging her chest but Zanrye did not let this stay. He kissed her long until she was swooning and helped her to her feet, guiding her to bed. She sat and he stripped to his tunic, his night-pants already in her chambers. She looked away. He thought of the cuddling that would happen, more needed now than it'd ever been between them. And for once he was thankful for their embraces. He saw the tea she was to bring him and grabbed it only to stop at Josephine's scream. He eyed her. She was sheepish.

"Leliana was angry." She explained and Zanrye sighed, tossing the tea into a nearby plant, probably killing it with the poison Leliana had infused in it.

Josephine awaits him, in her own night dress, this one a pale pinkish color. He blows out the candles but the moon still shone through the open curtains. He comes behind her and wraps her in his arms, kissing her ears and hair as per usual. But then the thought comes to his mind. And he has the courage (or rather, is tired enough) not to care about asking it, after all that's happened.

"Josephine?" He asks after some time.

"Mm?" She says, voice muffled by covers and arms. She is beginning to drift.

"Are you…" He pauses before he says the human word, "chaste?" She is completely still for a moment before she turns in his arms and looks up at him. She is shocked. He almost averts but decides against it. She instead looks away.

"…I am not," she said simply. "I…have not been for some time." And suddenly her face is insecure. "I…I hope that is not something important to you…."

"No." He shook his head and then looked down again, steeling his resolve. "But…"

"But?" Her voice has a hint of fear, and more than a hint of insecurity.

"But nothing." Zanrye shook his head, now insecure himself. _But if not, why won't you have sex with me?_ How could he ask that?

"What has prompted you to ask?" She asked him, her face still searching.

"…nothing." He shook his head and then he felt her hands on his chest—so dainty and long. Her eyes were intense, gazing at him, truly intrigued and still a bit scared.

"You…are not chaste, darling. Yes?" She asked. Zanrye snorted.

"…I'm not chaste by any stretch of the imagination." Josephine rolled her eyes at his cheekiness. But he held her tighter, going for it. "I just…was wondering why you haven't asked me to…." He paused, feeling scrutinized by her calculating eyes. He rushed the last part, "why you haven't asked me for more?"

There was a brief silence as her eyes got very big, realizing what he was saying. Zanrye was surprised when she got a grin on her face, bordering on mocking. He gave her a playful glare as she even began to giggle in awe, as the thought entered her mind for the first time.

"You think…I'm not interested in making love to you," She reasoned, using her strange shemmy metaphors for sex. He did not answer at first and then looked down, never meeting her eyes.

"I just can't understand why you haven't asked for anything more than…what we've been doing." He found it easier to form words with no eye contact. "You haven't…let me into you or…you haven't asked me to kiss down there or…just—." He stopped short.

Her eyes seemed to be dancing and Zanrye could only stand to look at them for a moment before his face was tinged with red. After another nervous giggle, she put her hand on his face and directed him to look at her. Her eyes were deeper, their lips near each other.

"You yearn to do such things?" She asked, her tone awed and dazed. Zanrye did not hesitate.

"Yes." He said simply. That made Josephine giggle, though nervously, her throat clearing as it did when she was flustered. She inhaled and then kissed him lightly.

"I did not know you felt so…strongly about this." She said softly.

"Don't you want to…?" Zanrye asked, his voice laced with defensiveness.

"I—" She looked wide-eyed up at him, seemingly aghast by his directness but he kept her stare until she lowered her eyes and whispered, "Y-yes. I do…."

"But?" Zanrye asked her.

"Well I…I've not known you for that long, darling." She explained. "It is…I mean, to ascend from one stage to the next at a fast pace." Her voice is assuring. "Moving at such a pace …does not always prove fortunate…." Her trepidation caused him to feel ill at ease.

"What…?" Zanrye felt his eyes widen and blood turn cold.

"It is nothing of consequence." She said hurriedly to calm him. "But…I know what can come from rushing things not well prepared…lacking some necessary comfort." Her eyes seem distant and Zanrye swallows the lump in his throat. "It is not who I am, to move very quickly into delicate territories." She paused and Zanrye didn't want to ask, knew she didn't want him to ask, but heard the words come from his mouth even still.

"Were you harmed?" The statement feels cold.

"I've…had regrettable encounters where things went too fast, Zanrye. That's all." She said finally. Zanrye looked her dead in the eyes now, grip on her tight.

"Answer my question." He said, mind beginning to form images of faceless men that he would kill had they harmed her—

"No." She said soothingly, running hands on his chest. "I was not harmed, my dragon." She runs her hands up to his neck. "But I've not always been as wise as I am now." He did not feel much better, or fully believe her. She nuzzled closer to him.

"And you're afraid of that being us? Not favorable?" He said more than asked.

"I do not intend for something like that to be us." She said simply. "We may…seize the moment if its right—when it is right." Zanrye was still a bit confused but said nothing for a time, processing, not entirely sure what to feel. He contemplated shortly.

"Well that night…" he said, slightly fearful of her answer, "when I…touched you…" Her face went bright red but her eyes didn't avert. He hesitated, gazing at her, not wanting an unfavorable answer to what he was about to ask, knowing it would hurt. But her eyes were becoming heavier, and all the more coy; her hands stayed on his neck and his chest.

"Yes," she urged him to finish, with a wispy voice that made his ears prickle hearing it.

"Was I…I mean, is that…too fast or uncomfortable or…?" he grasped for appropriate words but stopped as her hands moved along his chest slowly and her bashful eyes stayed at his collar, her voice soft.

"No…." Her voice was like velvet. "It was right…."

And as she spoke, Zanrye noticed the waver in her tone and her breath become shallower. Was she reminiscing what they'd done? Was the memory good enough to make her breathless, even if only slightly? Zanrye tried to digest this when her hands stopped moving and then her eyes of dark fire were looking into his and she spoke words that worked like magic.

"I liked it…."

Zanrye wasn't even sure he heard her say it for a moment, not that he had before believed she didn't enjoy it. But as soon as her words, spoken barely above a whisper, went through his brain he felt his palms heat and a current channel through him. The information was not new yet somehow, it being said…sent chills through him. His mouth spoke words coming from within his language of sex and in tones of the same.

"You liked that?" His voice was deep. He was pulling her closer, hands moving lower. He needed to hear it again. _Say it just one more time_

"…Very much…" Josephine said, voice like satin. And her eyes remained an elegant pair of flames. Zanrye didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their way all over her and he squeezed everywhere as he kissed her tenderly, her hands coming around his neck, more active and more erotic in this setting. And the dance of this stage of their sex life came to him again as he massaged Josephine as she did him the same, her heavy eyes and needy hands behind his head and around his neck making him feel invincible.

And Zanrye knew that they would probably wait a bit longer to merge their parts fully, which he wasn't the happiest about; and they would be slower to move from one area to the next most likely—but they were not to be dead in the water. His ego, which had been beginning to doubt him, beginning to feel insecure, beginning to feel like less a man, was sated by her admissions, by her reciprocity now, by the excitement in her eyes as he assumed position above her and by the willful parting of her legs for him.

He lay awake for a time that night after they'd both been spent, Josephine cradled in his arms. And he just stared ahead with a satisfied smile, not being able to truly believe that such an outcome had come from the storm before. Only right before he drifted off did he remember that he'd have to be careful tomorrow morning. Leliana did not yet know the truth and would not know until she was alerted—and he had no doubt she'd be ready to kill him as soon as he stepped outside of Josephine's room.

Better to bunker down and let Josephine calm her down. And even then, he'd need to be a bit careful for a while, wait for Leliana to truly believe he hadn't betrayed Josephine. He felt himself frown at the thought. _Damnit. Now I won't even be able to trust my tea._ He sighed, hugging Josephine to him and chuckling. _The things we do for those we lo—_

His thought paused on itself before he could complete it, jarring him. He slowly reconfigured his thought. _The things we do for those we hold dear._

There. That sounded better.

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC (Elven by fenxshiral)

-Paladahl: penis

-Pala: sex

-[My attempt at conjugation to make up the word virgin]: I'te'pala: without sex (virgin)

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Dilys [pronounced dee-lyess] - (woman) ex-lover, Dancer/Prostitute


	23. From The Graves

NEW ARLATHAN

"I want to visit soon." Zanrye said to Lana as they walked through the forest range. Children ran ahead of them, wraps on their feet and sticks in their hands.

"I do too. Things are settling well in Wycome they say but…I need to see it." Lana seemed contemplative. "But our numbers grow every day. And we've nearly reached the next cap—doubling our numbers. I do not think Josven is ready." She spoke of her First, whom she had recently begun to train.

"No." Zanrye agreed. "I don't think so either." They passed by two hunters having a pissing match, both brandishing their weapons in a non-threatening yet animated way. It made Zanrye smile, watching the man and woman seek to outshine the other. The bickering and banter was harmless. And all of it was part of the little things that made this stretch of rich land beyond the mountains truly feel like a New Arlathan. "But you can't let that stop you, stop us." They had reached her home again: she had her own permanent structure which doubled as a cabin for her and a large rectangle that served as the office for her and the Keepers from the other clans. They were all equals in most things, however Lana spoke with the authority of the Inquisitor and filled a role similar to the that of a "keeper of all."

"Do you have an idea of when to go then?" She asked. "Who to hold things together? The Keepers will be able to protect the clans but…without my or your presence…." Her voice was contemplative again. "I don't like them vulnerable." Zanrye knew she was yet haunted by what she'd had to endure after the Breach had appeared in the sky and didn't make her say anymore. He knew that his new Clan, no matter their competence, was still a fledgling one. And no risk could be taken. He'd learned enough from command to understand how important symbols were and how agitated people could become when they would once more be at the mercy of others—even if only in their minds.

"Well Tiana must remain in Orlais for now." Zanrye thought aloud. "But we are still waiting for the scouting report from the Arbor Wilds. And I've dispatched Cassandra and Solas to Emprise du Lion for the red Templars…." He sighed at the thought and then suddenly frowned. "I need to expand my circle, don't I?"

"Yes." Lana said bluntly. "You have me…Tiana…. Who else? Who else do you have that you can trust—besides Nishia and Keeper and Kaynala, who are needed in Wycome? Tiana is always on a mission…we don't have enough people to organize what we want to do, Rye." At his hopeful eyes, she shook her head, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear needlessly as it was short now. "It isn't enough people, or organizers."

"I don't know who else…." Zanrye sighed. He thought about all he'd accomplished this week and all he would be free to do. His hand would buzz, randomly. He was beginning to have dreams. He knew that something was coming up, that things were coming to a head. And all that he wanted to do was still just out of his reach. He had gained more than a rapport with Gaspard, even a true alliance. He could deal with the man, and believed that he was just an old mind who felt he had the rights to Ferelden and wanted to uphold the chivalric code above all. He didn't necessarily like the man or his indifference towards elves, but he realized he could be of good support, and at the very least he respected him. That was what he called his "political" plan—that one that would affect the lives of elves on an interracial level. Then there was the "military" plan—which would be this sanctuary's initial focus, and the elves in Orlais' focus under Tiana's influence. He needed to militarize as many elves as he could, setting up a network. He'd have city elves, elven assassins, and soldiers and mages.

Then there was the "social" plan, the long-term plan. He knew what Nishia would say, how Po would laugh if he was here, but Zanrye wanted…he wanted New Arlathan to come to life. He wanted to expand this into a nation, swallowing up Skyhold and rivaling all the nations around it. They would have a network between New-Arlathan and the cities in Orlais and all the way up to the Free Marches and Antiva. Who knew? Maybe with this deal with Gaspard, he could even end up taking all of Ferelden for his own, dividing up the land between him and the Orlesian shems. He could create a new world for elves.

"I'll also scout the people but…I know too well how hard it can be when you don't know much about them as you'd like to." Lana put her hand on his shoulder. Zanrye nodded and patted her hand. He looked at the rolled up parchments ready to be dispatched by the various clans' scouts up to Skyhold. He knew the clans well enough to know these were false reports going to Josephine. Zanrye turned away from them. He knew he needed to keep this from her. She was his vhenan, his fanor. But she was a shem and the Ambassador of the shem-led Inquisition. He couldn't let her know about New-Arlathan. For where was her place in it? His stomach hurt when he pondered that question.

"I need to head back." He said to Lana finally. "Are those late?" He gestured to the rolls. She glanced at them lazily.

"Some late, some early." Lana said. "It's hard to ask the Keepers to lead and make up believable tales, Zanrye."

"Well, don't keep her waiting." Zanrye said somewhat defensively. "Is that smart to do?"

"She accepts the reasons for the delays with no indication that she doesn't believe them." Lana said. Zanrye did not respond. She seemed like she wanted to say something but she had never been one to pry much. "They'll go out today." She said no more than that and Zanrye walked out and mounted his horse, guiding it slowly upward towards Skyhold. He was reluctant to return but could not tell why. He knew he'd been having moodiness and his thoughts were scattering more frequently. But he did not so much wish to avoid Skyhold or stay at the sanctuary…but…it was all the duty and responsibility that awaited him. That made him sag heavier than his sword in its holster.

And he wanted to go back to his clan but how long would that arrangement take? And being gone for that long, what lie would he need to conjure up to trick Josephine into believing it. The rest of the Inquisition would accept his reports, save for Cassandra and Solas's scrutiny that they would drop. But Josephine…she would be in her room, alone, thinking of him. He could tell the Inquisition he planned to make sure Wycome was up to speed—and may not even be questioned about it—but even so, what messages would that send to Josephine? They'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months yet he knew more about her family than he knew of hers. He even got letters from her sister from time to time, the talkative artist-to-be. He could tell her he intended to travel home, and visit his family. Would she pry? Would she be hurt he hadn't asked her to come? After a certain time, young couples usually introduced the whole of their family. And he had an inkling that Josephine had been slowly trying to ease him into familiarity with her own, grooming him on the proper etiquette of things. So many obstacles…and all he wanted to do was visit…the need to do so came with urgency now more than ever. Something was on the horizon...they were so close to everything they wanted...

"Inquisitor!" He heard the call for him as soon as he entered the first newly set up perimeter. He wanted to kill himself there and then but settled for simply throwing his head backward, eyes to the sky, a groan of anguish escaping him. Then he righted himself and looked to none other than Cullen. Zanrye eyed him curiously. His Commander was sweating and seemed to have been looking for him. What could be so important that it made Cullen run—or at least walk fast?

"Commander." He dismounted and came down to look the man in the face. His face was tight.

"I've found where the red Templars came from." Cullen said to him, speaking of those that attacked Haven so long ago and still others who they were dealing with even now. "Therinfal Redoubt. After the Knights were turned into monsters by being force fed red lyrium, Samson took over." Samson, the infamous right hand of Corypheus who led the attack on Haven with the demon, as far as Zanrye knew.

"Do you want to—" Zanrye began.

"Yes." Cullen cut him off. "But not just that. It's important that they not regain their strength. They still require lyrium and if we cut off their source, we weaken them and their leaders." He spoke with assurance and force that Zanrye had only seen a few times before. The grudge with this ex-templar was personal, Zanrye knew but he chose not to push it.

"So I send a small force to the fortress." Zanrye said calmly. "And the lyrium?"

"Caravans have been spotted smuggling it." Cullen said. "If we trace them, we can find where its being mined."

"And you already have some of these routes plotted out? Right?" Zanrye asked. Cullen handed him a piece of parchment. Zanrye took it and nodded. Cullen touched his sword and made to turn away but Zanrye placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take him down…him and Corypheus and all of them." Cullen nodded though less stiffly and walked back the way he'd come. He would see to the dispatch towards Therinfal Redoubt. But the caravans…that would be on Zanrye. He unfolded the parchment and made his way to his office to take out another. He'd have to get word to Lana: they wouldn't be going home in the next few days after all.

* * *

PRESENT

EMERALD GRAVES

Zanrye never delighted in a lot opportunity to organize a trip back home—back to his clan—but he did not regret coming here. He had been so caught up in the politics of all the differing factions—Orlais, Nevvara, Ferelden—that he did not realize he was heading to the heart of the Dales.

The Greatwood was what the shems called it—the Greatwood was its name. But to Zanrye, he knew it for its true name: Emerald March. Since he was little, he'd heard stories from his mom and stepdad and Po of course. But to be here…to be where the Emerald Graves now stood—the trees being symbols of the dead warriors…it made Zanrye feel very small as his pony trotted underneath the overhanging foliage that enhanced the sun above them though it obscured its light, shining a brilliant green instead.

He had taken Dorian and Cole with him and soon, sent for Keeper Biloro's Second, Orulan, a boy well versed in history and "myth" that even Zanrye had neglected. He'd also brought Cole because he needed to get to know the spirit fellow better. Ever since he'd let him stay on the Inquisition grounds, Solas seemed to be taking an interest in him. At his example, Zanrye couldn't help but do the same—though from afar. Vivienne was right: the young man was dangerous in some sense, even if Solas—the befriender of spirits and demons—could not admit it. That was in fact the reason she refused to come with him today. She had been working on her spell involving a witherfang and Cole's presence further prompted her. Zanrye had been more than unwilling to make her participation an order and dropped the matter. However, he was glad to have Cole along with him. He knew that the spirit would be able to do for him what Solas—occupied—could not: impart onto him knowledge of those long dead.

"Zanrye, must we stop at every single wolf statue from camp to overpass?" Dorian grumbled as Zanrye dismounted once more and stopped to write things down. He had a long slip of parchment that was full of all his sightings. He wished he also had an artist to paint all of this, some way to capture the things before him. He knew the stories—of the giant wolves beside the Emerald Knights…but to see them being paid homage…to see that they actually existed….

"They are called guardians." Orulan said, his messy red hair reminding Zanrye of Po's and his assured eyes reminding him of Lana. Dorian sighed again in his way and Zanrye glared at him to the man's shrug. Cole did not react. But in a moment he spoke.

"There are angry people on pained bones." He said. Zanrye blinked and Orulan backed away, gesturing. Not even 20 yards from them, the men stood. Armored in a way Zanrye could not readily identify, they were all chattering and were clearly not happy.

"Who are they?" Zanrye asked aloud.

"Well don't you remember why we came here in the first place?" Dorian nagged. "The refugees? Fairbanks? Calling for help against the Dales' militant group?"

"Oh. Yes, that." Zanrye said. He'd come here for two separate purposes and had forgotten both in the whirlwind of facts and sights they'd been sucked into. He needed to catch the wagons and meet with the man who'd sent the letter. He sighed wearily and drew his sword. "Alright, let's kill them. But quickly." He looked upward. "We need to make it to the northern part of here soon. We have a caravan to ambush."

* * *

The trek through the Emerald land took them to the Watcher's Reach in the canyon. They met with the refugees and their leader Fairbanks. And, as it turned out, also led them to the rogue Templars and crates of lyrium.

"They are colluding with your enemy," Fairbanks informed him. "And if you fight the freemen, they'll lead you right to the Templar base!" If Zanrye hadn't cared before, that made him at least interested. Further talks led to more promises. "You help our camp, all I know about the freemen, about the Dales, all of it will be with the Inquisition." Zanrye's eyes went wide and he realized the knowledge of the territory he knew he would not have time to realistically explore could be at his fingertips. He agreed to help Fairbanks. The decision did not take very long as the setup was a simple one: he got knowledge, more agents, and "acclaim" from helping.

"Would you have cared had he not had what you wanted?" Orulan asked him as they finally left the camp on the way to the next supply line. Zanrye eyed him, not expecting the question.

"The freemen are working with the templars." He told him as they left the small camp. "I would have needed to face them before long, anyway."

"And besides that…no other reason to help the refugees." Orulan's accusation was not aggressive. But Zanrye felt the impact.

"I'd have to in the end." Zanrye shrugged. "They called for the Inquisition's help and the Inquisitor shows up. Had I not helped, it would seem like I was taunting them."

"No thought to their displacement...in need of our help?" Orulan pressed.

"They're refugees." Zanrye said, almost in protest. "Their story is sad, but others have the same story. We can't save the world…." He paused. Orulan arched a brow "Well, we're trying to save the world, yes, but we can't literally save everyone in a way that doesn't involve attacking Corypheus." His eyes were wandering. "I think I saw another statuette over by the side of—"

"The refugees are displaced Orlesian peoples, Inquisitor." Orulan said. "They came to be that way after the war of the lions…after one of the biggest civil wars this age's Orlesians have seen in a while." He sighed. "They are the victims of power-grabs, politics, and conflict between the humans and us. Even the freemen are to some extent…. Despite their differences from us, they have been fighting against the same forces and have been dying too. For this many of them to be surviving even now and upholding their communities as they have, keeping the freemen from extorting them for so long…you must at least admire them somewhat." He began their walk again. "It isn't your job to do so but...I thought you might." Zanrye said nothing for a short time, his mind no longer on the leaves. He looked back at the entrance to the camp and knew that the boy was right. Anyone to withstand domination as the group did was admirable in some way but many had that story of struggle-you need just look around at the number of trees.

The walk turned and their group lost sight of the camp; the silence remained. But Zanrye did not sulk at his scolding…. Instead, he thought and said nothing…and then finally increased his pace until he was right behind Orulan.

"So?" He asked him. Orulan looked at him. Zanrye did not look back. "What exactly is the war of the lions then? Celene and Gaspard right?" He'd heard words from both of the political parties. Gaspard had reason to favor war and strength; his mindset leaned towards upholding the sovereignty of Orlais against dissenters in Ferelden. Yet Celene also had reason for her less than absolute policies: she was already being scrutinized, she was sleeping with Briala, and the only way to keep her reign and order was to prevent the war (or at least not start it). Orulan looked at him calmly with eyes that seemed to know more than they let on. They were dark eyes.

"That is a long tale, Your Worship." The boy finally said. "And we've many things to accomplish here first. I'm sure we'll have time to speak about it later." Zanrye was not oblivious to the invitation of later comradery. He welcomed it.

"Alright then. Back to the land gazing." He said, earning a smile; and on they went.

Zanrye tried to put the ages of history out of his mind as they made their way towards a second caravan line. With a few commands, Zanrye and his team attacked, jumping from behind rocks and trees and taking the Templars out—with difficulty. It was more than Zanrye had anticipated, 7 in total. He'd only suffered a few scrapes when the shield had left him. He found a letter to the recipients plain as day right there in the wagon.

"Their new client, Samson." He read aloud to his team.

"Well, it's nice of them to leave us a paper trail." Dorian said.

"They were prone to forgetting danger of discovery." Cole said softly.

"More likely that they didn't care even if they were discovered." Orulan said, clicking his tongue. "We can't make out a location from this alone. Or the earlier one."

"We can't. Maybe Cullen can." Zanrye said to him. "Come on. Let's deal with these freemen."

"And how? Kill them all, as you so love to do?" Dorian asked.

"No." Orulan said before Zanrye could speak. "You do not kill a beast by chopping it into little pieces." His tone was once more scolding but softly so. "You go for their heads."

"Fairbanks mentioned the Sister so we go there." Dorian said.

"That's only one head to a multifaceted issue." Orulan continued. He looked dead at Zanrye. "The freemen of the Dales aren't made up of just Orlais but both sides, dissenters everywhere. There wouldn't just be one figurehead to rally behind. You would need at least three, for the numbers they've actually acquired." Zanrye stared at the man and then took a few steps toward him.

"Does Keeper teach you history or battle tactics, Orulan?" He asked plainly. The ginger shook his head but had a small smile on his face.

"He teaches me enough." Orulan said secretively. "At least, he tries. We all must be ready for the coming days Inquisitor."

"We all must." Zanrye agreed. "Alright…we deal with the sister and then we'll see where to go from there."

The viridium mine was seemingly harmless but Zanrye knew from the two guards outside that this was no longer the case. Perhaps once so, but no more. Not since the Templars and the freemen. They took care of them and then slipped into the depths of the mine quietly as they came.

They were met face to face with nearly a dozen Templars, and a helmeted Sister farther back, her eyes trained on them, her shield at the ready.

They barely had time to react. Zanrye rolled away from the incoming arrow and pulled out his greatsword. The cry from the sister started the assault and he readied himself, the shield from Dorian shimmering brightly around him. Orulan was safe in the distance, his own staff now in front of him.

They barely began the fight when the cry of battle from the Sister became a cry of pain and, from a large puff of smoke, Cole appeared, two daggers deep in the woman's neck. She staggered a bit, gasping trying to reach back. But they were curved and long and made of the finest steel that the smith could forge. She tried in vain and soon fell on her face as Cole vanished just as quickly as he'd come. There was a pause as the fighters looked to their assassinated leader but it was a second too long. Zanrye charged with Dorian and Cole alongside him and they quickly cleaned up the rest of the adversaries, pickpocketing keys to the gates and freeing the captured refugees.

"Why would they want to cage them?" Orulan frowned as the captives ran out, thanking the heroes. Zanrye shook his head in confusion. "They are extorting the refugees…but detaining them? Was it about money?"

"It's always about power." Zanrye sighed. "And to these people, money is power."

"You're the Inquisitor?" The human, brunette woman stepped out of the cage last with two men walked quickly past her. She approached him with hopeful eyes. Zanrye squirmed.

"Yes." He said. "And you're…"

"Gertrude." She said to him urgently. "Listen…I-I know none of us have got any money to pay you for this—"

"That isn't what we're here for." Zanrye said over her tiredly, glancing at Orulan as he did. She did not stop speaking, however.

"But I did see some information that…." She gathered herself. "We need your help. There are more of us. Not just us here. And not just rogue Templars. There are mercenaries and chevaliers…they've got more of us, locked up."

"What?" Zanrye asked, eyes big.

"They keep all their documents in the chest just there." She pointed with a finger to an emerald chest near a table with a light. "Sister Costeau always had the key. I'm sure there'll be reports of where the other locations are."

"Do you know how many?" Zanrye asked.

"Only that there are at least two more, Your Worship." She said. Zanrye nodded, his stomach turning. "Alright…. Are you going back to the Watcher's Camp?" She nodded. "Tell Fairbanks I've cleared this place out. I'm not done but…the Sister is taken care of at least." Gertrude nodded and moved out. Zanrye turned to his team. "How many documents have we taken off the caravan raids?"

"Three, Inquisitor."

"Alright," he thought for a time. "Dorian, take them back to the forward camp and get a raven to Cullen. See if he can make sense of this. Cole, Orulan, let's go."

"Is that your polite way of getting rid of me?" Dorian eyed him. Zanrye sighed and gave him serious eyes to which Dorian merely smirked and turned his back on them. "Enjoy the scenic hike you three."

"Get a mare from the Watcher's reach." Zanrye called to the man; Dorian answered with a flippant gesture. Zanrye almost laughed, gesturing. Orulan took lead.

* * *

PRESENT

EMERALD GRAVES

"This is supposed to be the headquarters of the freemen?" Zanrye was looking around at the shabby villa. The wallpaper was peeling, the drapery was in tatters, he saw more than a few rats running in and out, and fresh kills (squirrels and fennecs) were beginning to stink. The outside was splendid but inside has seen many, many better days.

"One of many." Orulan reminded him. Dorian, who had caught up to them, scoffed.

"You expect cleanliness from a group of thugs?" He asked, brow arched. Zanrye angled his head in understanding.

"I suppose not but…."

"In the courtyard." Cole said to them. They froze and Zanrye edged forward. Indeed, it was a band of freemen and…

"Another damned red Templar." He sighed.

"If there is a way we could draw out the leader—the General from the note. Or the chevalier." Dorian suggested. The cry was sounded over their discussion and in seconds they saw the veteran fall to the ground and Cole vanish once more.

"The decision was made for us." Zanrye growled and pulled out his blade. He ran in with a cry and brought the weapon down on the shield of another freeman. Dorian's shield came up and fire began to emit towards the archers. Plumes of smoke were rife as Cole darted back and forth where he could. Zanrye blocked the brunt of the man's shield before it smacked him in the mouth; recovering, he twisted around, bringing the sword over his head and spinning. It smacked the three in the vicinity and he felt the steel rattle with the impact. He felt the wind by his back and instantly dropped down, ducking from the incoming arrows. He'd been lucky. The captain hounding him beat the long part of his sword but in an instant, the man burst into flames, bound by silvery tendrils—no doubt Orulan's doing. Zanrye rose once more, readying himself for coming attacks, only to be sent back to the ground once more but this time by a hammer to the side of his face.

His vision was gone for a moment and he felt his jaw give a popping sound. He staggered and caught himself before the ground could join in on the assault. Ears ringing, he saw the smoke engulf him as Cole jumped towards the captain's back as the General—Maliphant—with whom the Sister had been coordinating, joined the fray. His appearance seemed to have given the soldiers more hope—and ruthlessness.

Zanrye breathed heavily, scrambling out of the way. He could feel the heat coming to his veins as the foreign blood began to take over. He planted his sword and pulled himself up with its support, opening both his eyes. His left was bloody and desperately trying to swell shut from the blow. But the buzzing that was now throughout his entire body would not allow that. It stood him straight and waited for him to choose a target. Zanrye narrowed in on the captain, who swung around for Cole. He locked his eyes on the man, body moving as if in slow motion, and he clasped both hands on his sword, planted one foot firmly in the ravaged grass of the courtyard, and began to swung.

The man held up his hammer and tried to dodge but Zanrye moved forward, relentless. His blows came down harder than before, swipes full of fury and precision. He backed the man away, chasing him across the way to the revered Maliphant. When the captain had nowhere else to go—and Zanrye could sense it—he summoned a fraction of his fury and felt his body jump up from the ground, higher than should be possible for him, and bring the full force of his sword down. The captain put up his hammer but Zanrye's blade cut through it as if it were made of wood and buried itself deep into the man's skull, tearing through meat and bone.

Zanrye wrenched his sword out of the gory mess as quickly as he'd put it there and swung it haphazardly, catching Maliphant on the side—the last man standing. The warrior blocked him effectively, kicking off Cole and displacing Orulan and Dorian. Zanrye charged him, thrusting and slashing, with the man only able to parry just enough. Zanrye moved quickly and dodged the man's efforts to hit back, nearly laughing to himself, and flipped his sword as if he were holding a bat and brought it full force into the man's side. The metal and bone both crunched under the force and Maliphant was momentarily phased. That was all that was needed. Orulan had him, Dorian blasted off his helmet in a fiery explosion, and Cole's daggers were in his throat. The man choked, body wobbling for just a moment before he finally fell to his knees and was still.

"Maker." Dorian exhaled, sweat on his brow. "Bloody mess this was…." He turned an earnest face to Zanrye. "Inquisitor?"

Zanrye's body was stuck with heat coursing through it. He looked to Dorian expectantly, seeing the horrified expressions on both his and Orulan's face. He cocked his head and the blood finally trailed into his vision. Turning his head back, he placed a gloved hand to his puffy left eye and pulled it back to reveal a coated, red stain. He blinked and more blood came into his vision. He grunted and shook his head, turning to them.

"I'm alright." He told them. No one moved.

"The fire burns away the pain. But it will return." Cole said from his right. "It always returns."

"You need to get to the camp. To make sure it isn't infected. Or won't be." Dorian said flatly. "We can't run around with an Inquisitor missing one of his parts."

"We need to investigate the area." Zanrye protested.

"We will." Orulan told him. "We'll take anything we find and return back to the camp." He looked around. "Someone should escort him…in case…."

"I can make it myself." Zanrye grumbled irritably, trying to wipe the trickling blood out of his face, worried how bad he actually looked. The left side of his face seemed to creak a bit too….

"We can't have our Inquisitor also get found dead in the river or missing because he succumbed to his injuries." Dorian said testily. "I'll be fine here. You could…Cole can make sure. Cole?"

"It isn't safe on the paths." Cole said. "I'll go with him."

It was all agreed on, without any words from Zanrye who was ushered out of the villa as Orulan picked up a rusty bit of metal and began to examine it. He wanted to ask him what it was he found but Cole was already getting out of sight. Zanrye followed him out and took out his map, trailing blood down his front. Cole eyed him.

"The cloth should stop the bleeding. Or catch it at least." The spirit told him. Zanrye looked to his sash on his spiked armor and rolled his eyes, taking it off. As he rolled his eyes, he noticed a twinge of pain in his left eye. _Creators_ ….

They walked along the path with a sash on Zanrye's eyes. The hill took them upward and towards a path that seemed to circle around onto more familiar paths. Cole took the map for him. Now alone and beginning to cool down, Zanrye looked once more at the forest around him. He took in the stillness but perpetual noise of the forest. He felt...differently...than he had at the beginning, upon his first arrival. It was beautiful and rich with treasure and history that he wished Solas or Orulan was here to talk about, since cole seemed to have gone mute. But…there was more. Zanrye gazed through one eye at the bright sky darkened by the green above. He watched the progression of time as they moved along the path…and could almost feel the effects of the history. The dead. He looked now at the ground and saw not the soil or the treasure buried beneath him. He finally saw graves. He looked to the trees and their symbolism began to sink in, representing not 1,000 warriors but 1,000 dead warriors. The roots of the trees spread over the distance between each other, connecting together to tell a narrative…one of glory and countless lives...and their ending.

 _Life is too short_ , Zanrye thought to himself, somewhat bitterly. And even more so, life was precarious with each moment taking from another. He listened to the story of the Graves around him as he and Cole made their way through the intense shrubbery. It was a narrative of resilience in the face of adversity and a million lives lost in the quest for freedom…lives that were elven…but…. He thought to the refugees he'd freed today…the ones they found in the Villa…the ones Fairbanks led. They too had shed blood, been robbed of their homes in an instant, got swept up in the cyclone that was the war of the privileged and powerful. Their blood was now added to the soil, just as the Emerald Knights' had been. Zanrye thought about Lana. He thought about Mima. He thought about the stirrings in the air, telling of the battle just around the bend. _Life is too precious..._.

"Inquisitor." Cole warned him. Zanrye looked to him and followed the man's eyes to his hands. The left one was alive with green fire. He sighed and finally peered through the foliage. Sure enough, he noticed the off-green some dozen yards away from them. He turned to Cole who said nothing but disappeared into a burst of smoke. Zanrye drew his sword, this time with more difficulty as his joints protested, and headed toward the rift.

* * *

PRESENT

EMERALD GRAVES

Zanrye was reading the letter when Dorian and Orulan finally arrived back in the camp. He was sitting without his armor chest plate, instead adorning a simple tunic. The side of his head was bandaged with his eye covered. It had swelled considerably but he'd been drinking the horrid-tasting health potions one of the mages onhand had made and he knew his wounds would heal soon enough—sooner if one of the Inquisitions specialty healers saw him. His jaw had also fractured though acutely. But there was nothing he could do about these injuries just now. He had to press on. He'd examined the last of the notes from the dead Sister and sent Inquisition soldiers out to slaughter all the freemen at Argon's Lodge. He sat up.

"And?" He asked them. They both should have arrived much earlier. Dorian's shirt was ripped and the side of his face was bloody from a shallow head wound. Orulan was limping.

"Ran into another leader." Orulan explained to him, coming over to him with difficulty.

"Unpleasant mercenary leading a band of freemen just outside the villa." Dorian explained, coming over to the mage and shooing him as he grabbed a health potion.

"And some artifacts." Orulan told him. "Not to mention some valuable materials—"

"And weapons. You like those right?" Dorian added.

Zanrye did not respond for the longest, his head beginning to ring. He just nodded. The two men waited for more and Zanrye stood slowly and decided to speak after all.

"I'm dealing with the Lodge." He said, picking up his armor and beginning to strap it on. He pulled it over his aching head. "After…the leader's dealt with…that'll be four. So…that'll be all. Tell Fairbanks that…the Inquisition had delivered…and so must he."

"There's also another matter." Dorian began.

"Apparently, Fairbanks might actually be a nobleman." Orulan began to chime in but Zanrye yanked on the beast plate and grabbed his arms pieces.

"I don't care…if he's the imperial consort, or whatever the hell it's called." He said tiredly. "He needs to deliver." His head was pounding. "Deal with it—you Dorian. And Orulan as well…to temper you; I know you can talk allies away."

"And where will you go?" Orulan asked. Zanrye clipped his final armor piece and pulled on his stained but clean gloves.

"To deal with…the piece of shit that's got his hands in all of this." Zanrye said. "With his fucking red Templars…."

He did not wait for them to reply, mounting his horse and squeezing its sides, ushering it forward. He heard them ask about Cole but in a moment, the man was also on a horse and following him back to the forward camp to don a carriage back to Skyhold. He would find Cullen and find this Samson before any more problems arose in the meantime.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"Maker! What happened to your eye?" Cullen's exclamation only made Zanrye shush him fiercely as he closed the door behind him. He'd summoned a healer to his chambers but hadn't yet been to see him. He stepped into the office with Cullen, glaring.

"A hammer—probably infused with some magic—or poisons. It'll be taken care of." Zanrye explained. "You've spoken to Dagna then?"

"It will take her some time to reverse-engineer the armor piece that Solas and Cassandra found at the hold." Cullen said. "But I would think it no more than a few days once we get her supplies."

"And after that?" Zanrye asked him.

"Well after that, we may be able to track the special enchantments he has on the metals to the last known locations of the enchanters capable of such feats." Cullen summarized. Zanrye nodded.

"Alright. And how long will it take our agents to locate the forging place?" He asked.

"It depends. With Leliana's help, a week. But with the preparations for the expedition to the Wilds and half our men already scouting that area—"

"So all of this will take two weeks at most then?" Zanrye asked him. Cullen nodded. "Well then we'll monitor what's happening. In the meantime, I need to fix my face."

"Have you talked to Flissa?"

"She left, remember? Besides, Adan's new apprentice is better—he's the healer."

Zanrye left the office tower and made his way down the steps, creeping as stealthily as he could. He had Cole scout out the areas ahead of him before he could make it back to his office without anyone detecting him. He'd sent a raven down to Lana to alert her of his plans to meet with her tonight and work out their schedule. But he needed to get the wound checked out first. He couldn't remember the last time anything this severe'd happened to him. All the battles, all the monsters, all the people. Not even his battle with Corypheus was this bad.

He made it in and saw the man waiting for him. He covered his desk with ointments and potions and surgical items that made Zanrye's stomach turn.

"Alright, Your Worship, lets have a look." The man gestured and Zanrye pulled a seat to the front of the desk and sat. The man's initial touch on the bruised jaw made Zanrye grimace but the prodding beneath his eye made his hiss and jerk back. "Calm now, Your Worship." Zanrye glared at him as best as he could with one eye and waited as the man assaulted his face with rough fingers, peeling back his swollen lid for further inspection. That's when the small, metal utensil came.

"And?" Zanrye asked him before the man could begin.

"And…you are fine, Inquisitor. A simple scarring of the eye, bruising of the face, broken jaw, and popped blood vessels. That is all. And after I scrape any blood and puss away, I will take care of it."

"How long will I look like a broken leader?" Zanrye asked.

"A few days at most." The man waved his concern off. "The impact seemed to have only gotten the lowermost part of your eye, thankfully. It will be bruised for some time but healed quickly. Your jaw will also be healed, and swiftly because of the potions and your…condition."

The dragon's blood," Zanrye thought.

The knock at the door made Zanrye wary and before he could shoo away the intruder, Josephine stepped in. In her usual garb, she eyed him as he heaved a sigh. He'd snuck in here, summoned a healer, saw to his duties, and done all he could to keep her and her fussing away. And yet she had not only found him but done so easily—why hadn't he locked the door?

"Darling." She chided, walking over to him with a flask of no-doubt brandy. He raised his eyebrows at her, much to the healer's displeasure. "You look terrible."

"Thank you, Josephine." He said. She smiled a bit and walked over to him, looking down.

"You should have come to see me when you arrived." She said simply. "This could have been done in your chambers, where you could relax and lay down."

"I have to go out again tonight." Zanrye said, looking up at her. "More business I have to see to."

"Well can't it wait?" She asked, her tone more urgent. "You sent Cullen in with orders to the meeting. You've already helped the refugees at the Greatwood. What else cannot wait until tomorrow?"

"Things I have to do." Zanrye huffed. Josephine was disapproving but said nothing. Her silence made Zanrye roll his eyes again, irritating the healer, and reach out to her and grab her hand. "It looks worse than it is. My duties can't stop because of a scratch." He paused. "Or a hit."

"I understand. I just think it would be nice for you to rest." Josephine responded halfheartedly. She was withholding something. Zanrye eyed her and knew what. He had business tonight and may not return—as he hadn't for many days since he'd been at the Green Dales. She wanted to sleep with him, and now that he was injured, she wished to comfort him. He debated, taken out of contemplation only by the healer taking more cold metal to his face. He pulled her closer.

"You want to see me now? While I'm ugly—when I'll be back to myself in a few days?" He asked her with a chuckle. She smiled down at him kindly, and squeezed his hand back.

"You are never ugly," She said softly, "my prince." The healer's grunt brought them back to the task. She straightened.

"Let me take care of this and then I'll come join you tonight after I visit the rookery. Hm?" Zanrye asked her. Josephine seemed to debate the idea.

"If your matters are…I mean, I don't want to take you away if you must—"

"I'll come tonight Josie." He said, looking away from her stuttering. "I can just go by way of letter to my contact tonight." The chemicals put in through the corner of his eye burned him. "Fuck, would you-"

"To prevent infection, Inquisitor." The healer said simply.

"I will leave you." Josephine stood. "I have some other business to attend to before the day's end. I merely wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You get to go out huh?" Zanrye asked her. Her giggle made him smile.

The session was over swiftly and Zanrye was given an eye patch to protect his wounded flesh and was advised to ice his cheek as he took magically altered herbs to grow his bones back. He wouldn't be eating hard foods any time soon. And the fractures were so slight in his jaw he could still talk but he was told not to overdo it. But still…within the week….

He walked from his office to the rookery with a letter in hand. He wrote freely, without any real need for code given the information within. It was a letter to Lana. He strapped it to the bird and watched it fly to the hidden camp only some miles away. His earlier message was nixed. They would not leave so soon for Wycome. But within the week, they would be off. Be it a day or several that he could spend with his family, Zanrye knew he had to do it—before time ran out and it became too late. Corypheus was being cornered, his plans were coming to fruition, New Arlathan was growing, and the sky yet was waiting for him. He may not get another chance to see any of them…and he couldn't die without knowing for himself—seeing with his own eyes—that they were okay. _Life is too precarious..._.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He walked up towards his quarters that night and saw Josephine waiting in bed for him with a book in her hands, in her long nightdress with frilled sleeves and collar; she stopped to smile as he entered the room. He smiled back at her, coming to lay beside her. He kissed her shoulder and peeked at the cover.

"What are we reading?" He asked.

"The latest chapter of Varric's book." She admitted and Zanrye laughed. "It is really good this one! Cassandra has just finished it and she told me that the ending will leave me especially upset." She groaned. "Varric is completely evil when it comes to the hearts of his readers."

"I'm glad it's entertaining at least." Zanrye smirked. Josephine swatted at him and he winced. She started, eyes wide until she saw him grin.

"You are impossible." She shook her head at his feigning injury, turning away. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to bring her back to him. She evaded him and moved away, out of the covers and turned to push him onto the bed, pinning him. Zanrye's eyes widened—his left doing its best. She put a leg on either side of him and grinning, hair falling in waves between them, bent over him.

"So this is the real reason you wanted me home tonight." He chuckled weakly. She laid down upon him, placing little kisses on his bruised cheek.

"Not the only." She corrected him. "I missed you. And Cullen told us—said you were hurt."

"Of course he would." Zanrye sighed.

"He had reason." Josephine said mildly and kissed his lips softly, wrapping him up in her arms and legs. Zanrye couldn't stop his eyes from widening. He knew it had been some time since he'd traveled far away from Skyhold for days and weeks at a time, but for her to be so tenacious with her affections….

He smoothed his hands over her and kissed her through her gown, from chest to lips, holding her tight. He knew his news would kill any mood she was in. She rubbed her hands over his stomach and kissed his sensitive ears and Zanrye had to fight himself, for his instincts screamed at him to stay quiet. At least until… _I get a chance to touch…_.

"Vhenan…" he stopped her when the thought entered his mind. Josephine, nuzzling her nose into his neck, stopped to look into his eyes. He sighed. "I'm going to be gone…in a few days." Her quizzical look was all that came. He swallowed. "I planned…to head to Wycome…soon. Give Cullen time to scout for Samson and…give…our scouts the time to make the final trek towards the woods."

Her sweet look was replaced by a polite one as she tried to hide her disappointment.

"You have not yet been there." She agreed calmly, her body closing to him, her arms moving from his neck to either side of him, preparing to push herself off. "Of course you must go and make sure that what is written is true. It is your family there after all."

She did not make any sudden moves to leave him but it was only a matter of time—how many seconds should she remain before she could disentangle herself. She was being selfish, and trying to hide her selfishness. Zanrye held onto her.

"I don't know when else I'll be able to see them before…things become too heated." He said apologetically. "I have to go to Emprise du Lion for the final write off, have to get to the Exalted Plains again, I'm expecting someone from Weisshaupt, we're already halfway done scouting a path into the woods—"

"I understand darling." Josephine said, now completely lifted, sitting on him and removing herself from there as well. "You have nothing to apologize for. We are both very busy." Her tone was solid but her movements took her away from him. Zanrye sighed and removed the rest of the covers from himself, coming to kneel on the bed beside her, hands wrapping around her from behind.

"I've missed you." He said into her hair. "I don't mean to leave you for this long…. I don't want to." He kept her in his arms as she sat on her heels, her purple, frilly nightgown soft as satin. He looked down at her from over her shoulder. She gave a rueful half smile, shaking her head.

"You…could have fooled me." Josephine said softly. Zanrye felt himself tense as she let his arms slide from her.

"Josephine…." Zanrye asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Josephine shook her head. "I…nothing."

"I haven't seen my family, my friends, since the attack on Wycome." Zanrye said, becoming irritated himself at her distant eyes.

"It has been a long time since you've seen me." Josephine said, reproach in her voice. Zanrye sighed, lowering to his heels. He bit his lip and let his comment out."

"I've seen you every day for weeks at a time, Josephine. I haven't been able to see any of my family since I came here—since the breach."

"What family?" Josephine asked finally. Zanrye looked at her in blatant confusion. She blushed, continuing strong. "What family members? All I ever hear about is a…Keeper…and your friends—one of which is an old lover, not a friend!"

Zanrye stared at her for a long time and she eventually looked away, sighing in exasperation. He watched her crawl over the covers, not meeting his eye. He knelt there, looking into the covers or a time, the conflict in the room weighing heavier on him. He suddenly became more aware of the pain he was in and he made the way over the bed to her side as she sat back against the pillows.

"Josephine?" Zanrye said to her. She looked up at him, shame but defiance in her eyes. His own lost their irritation, instead showing his weariness. "What would you do…in my position…?" There was a pause and Josephine's eyes went from guarded to worried and she looked away from him, instead over to the wall. He would not let her look for long. "Vhenan…I want to spend time with you…and I understand why you might feel the way you feel right now." In truth, he did not fully understood but could discern well enough. "I would feel the same way…I know you want to spend your time with me. And I want to spend mine with you." He knelt right beside her now. "You know that."

She was embarrassed and did not speak but she did nod. He'd broken through to her, he knew, by asking her to bring herself out of her own desires. Zanrye made his way over to her, mirroring her from earlier as he crept a leg on either side. She did not reject his kiss though she did not return it readily. His second was met with more enthusiasm and his third had her raising her hands to his face, holding her to him, her lips desperate for his. He drew back the covers from her and she shimmied down to lay beneath him.

"You know I want to spend my time with you." He murmured. Josephine nodded, arm wrapped around his neck, the other behind his back. Her breaths came quick and filled with shame and want all at once.

"I just miss you." Josephine breathed, legs wrapping around him as she welcomed his hands to explore her again, fulfill the wants she still had.

"I always miss you." Zanrye said forcefully in between kisses. "Always."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

He left bed later that morning. He tarried behind with Josephine wrapped up in his arms. He knew he would miss her but that he couldn't pass up a chance to see his clan. There wouldn't be much time…and things felt wrong.

He left the bed and walked down the stairs in his armor, leaving her getting ready herself, rolling her hair into her crown. He met with the scout Dolan as usual and summoned for his horse to see Lana at the start. He might also stop by Gaspard as well. He'd need to soon….

"Inquisitor." Dolan kept trying to get his attention.

"What is it?" Zanrye asked, waiting for more bad news.

"Note for you came in early this morning." He said. "Had that special mark for you."

"Thank you." Zanrye said, walking away from the man. He unrolled the parchment, stopping to take in that it was from Lana and read what her coded words said. His eyes widened and he turned back to the scout.

"You have my horse ready?" He asked. Dolan blinked, and nodded sporadically. Zanrye did not respond, instead running to the stables. He took his horse and did not speak to any one else as he galloped to the camp, running fast—a grin on his face as he got ready for who would be waiting for him. He almost laughed. Finally he reached the camp and rode through, with people waving. Lana was waiting for him and smirked as he skidded to a halt.

"Mima." He said, getting down.

"In my quarters." Lana smirked, walking with him. "Showed up last night late." Zanrye shook his head, laughing, and skipped the last couple of steps to the tent, bursting through them.

"Mima." He said, arms opened wide as the young woman laughed and opened her own, throwing herself into his grip. He hugged her tight, too tight, lifting her from her feet and shaking her. She wriggled out of his grip and the two of them laughed, smiling at each other as they sized each other up. She seemed to have aged though not by much. Her coils were longer, her skin more tan from the season. "Still as short as ever." He said to which she rolled her eyes.

"And you're uglier than I remembered, brother." She said. He remembered his gruesome appearance and laughed with her.

"This isn't my everyday attire." He assured her cheekily. She put her hands on her narrow hips and cocked her head in her way. A young woman of 26. She had a bow strapped to her back and strong arms…. Zanrye threw his arm over her shoulder again and squeezed her tight. He exhaled with a strong grip on her. His sister…here…. How long had it been since he'd seen her?

"So this is how I should treat the children." Lana interrupted. Zanrye let go of his sister who shrugged him off.

"Funny." Mima said.

"How did you get here?" He asked. "When?"

"Last night." Mima repeated. "And I came with some of Biloro's people. He's met with Keeper." Zanrye nodded, making sense of it. "They let me go…and I wanted to see you." Her look was earnest and a bit sad. "After the hole in the sky…and then the letters became scarcer…and you hadn't come to visit yet—"

"He wanted to." Lana said before Zanrye could speak. "Especially after what happened at Wycome. That's why he sent all those he could."

"Oh I know." Mima said, nodding. "I know how…weird it must be…with all these humans and …that." She nodded towards his hand where his mark was dormant but as he turned his attention to it, the faint green began, as if coming with his call.

"It's…a long, strange story." Zanrye smiled at her. "But I'll tell you about it if you tell me about what's been happening—more than the official story."

"You've missed out on so much!" Mima said, her eyes lighting up as she thought of the events of the past—a good sign Zanrye thought, since they did not darken with despair. She paused for a brief second. "Milan and I…." She debated. Zanrye's eyes widened and he stiffened.

"No." He said with disbelief, mouth almost a pout. His sister laughed at him.

"No, no bonding." She said. He put his hand on his chest and shook his head. "Would that be all that bad?"

"Yes." He said severely. She rolled her eyes and looked back to Lana.

"Are you coming with us to the palace?" She asked.

"It's more of a fortress than a palace da'len." Zanrye corrected her. Mima ignored him.

"I have duties here." Lana said and looked to Zanrye then. "And the trip…." Zanrye looked to his sister and smirked.

"And send her back so soon?" He asked. He turned to Mima. "You came all this way to visit me." She smiled small up at him. "No…Keeper sent her for a reason…I'll visit when I sent her back, before Cullen needs me to investigate Samson further. Once he has a plan, I'll schedule us leaving…maybe stay for a few days there…come back."

"And someone to take over my post?" Lana asked. Zanrye nodded and then looked at his sister.

"I was thinking I found someone." Zanrye said. "Slowly but surely…Biloro may not like me taking all his people, however." Lana looked inquisitively. "I will explain more later."

"Hopefully sooner." Lana said to him as he began to walk out with Mima behind him.

"Yes Keeper." He bowed to her to which she made an obscene gesture. He went to his horse and offered his laced hands to his sister.

"Why can't I have my own?" She demanded.

"I leave with one horse into the woods and return with two?" He asked her. "Do you want them to be more suspicious of me than they already probably are? This is a secret operation Mima."

"Understood, understood." Mima cut him off and stepped into his hand, hoisting her legs over either side. Zanrye got in the saddle behind her and clicked the reigns, starting at a fast trot. His sister held his shoulders and looked around at the forest as they began to bound up the path in a smooth motion. "It looks nicer in the daylight."

"It is nice." He agreed.

"And you rule Skyhold and the…camp." She said, remembering to speak in code.

"Lana technically runs the camp." He said, passing around another bend and following the incline. "But I have final say, yes."

"Inquisitor…leader of Skyhold…" Mima said it and let it roll over her. "My brother…." Then she snorted. "Herald of Andraste hm?"

"Herald of Sylaise more like." He scoffed. "The rumors keep me as their Andraste's Herald but it was really just the demon Corypheus…." He thought. "And the Divine—the latest one."

"She died." Mima said. Zanrye nodded.

"Her spirit…or…some spirit…taking her form…." He felt her stillness and confusion. "I'll explain it better once I can begin from the beginning." He glanced back. "And you will have to tell me how all of the traveling has been…how Wycome is…." He sighed. "A home…."

"A permanent home." Mima corrected him and he glanced back once more and they shared a knowing smile as the fortress came into view. He felt lighter now as he entered the grounds. The responsibilities seemed a bit less pressing with his sister's bright assurances and outer eyes looking in on what was happening. He heard her breathless "wow" when they came through the gates. He felt her eyes follow all the guards who bowed and saluted them as he came through. He knew that all the human interaction was impressing her, though she must have had some positive interaction of her own in the past weeks—more than ever in her life.

"Inquisitor." Scouts and soldiers let him through. Solas watched not too far away with interest. Zanrye and Mima both jumped off the horse and he gave it to a stableboy. He looked to them and gestured for Mima to join him.

"Soldiers." He addressed them. "This is Mima Lavellan, my honored guest and…." He hesitated for a brief time, enough for Mima to look up at him. He swallowed and pressed past the fear, "and my sister. She will be treated with the same respect as I am. She will have free passage in and out of the grounds. Is that clear?"

"Yes Your Worship." Came the chorus. Zanrye nodded to them and walked forward.

"Forgot our blood relation?" Mima eyed him.

"Forgot I didn't have to keep that a secret." He said simply. "Forgot I could trust them that much." His words were true, and he realized the fact as he spoke them. Mima smirked and they walked together up the steps to the main part of the building. "I will schedule a steward to give you a full tour of every nook and cranny of the castle—and you can go off on your own after that. I'll come find you before the evening. And then we'll talk."

"You will write me into your schedule?" She asked. "Maybe I'll need to write you into mine. I'm very busy with all this…visiting." He chuckled and walked with her towards the throne. She looked at it, with the skulls and plush green. "Intimidating…isn't it?"

"Yes." Zanrye laughed. "That's the point, da'len." His sister watched as he walked towards the leftmost office, following him.

"Imagine…if we lived here." She said, her eyes quick on the beams and drapery, noticing the Dalish symbols. Zanrye followed her eyes, hand on the door. He leaned in close to her and drew her attention to him.

"Someday we may…if I do what I'm destined to." Mima's eyes narrowed and he explained. "I am the Herald of Sylaise after all…." He opened the door and raised his voice. "Give me a moment, dasha." She waited for his explanation. He gave her a frank expression. "Just one…you can follow in just a minute." She stepped back a bit, looking once more at the room around her. He took a deep breath and opened the door, walking into Josephine's office.

As he expected, she sat at the desk. Her eyes were on her paper until she heard his footsteps and looked up. Her eyes were kind and shy, a bittersweet expression there. He smiled somewhat timidly. Hid body was buzzing but not because of the mark. He had come all this way, knowing what that would mean…. But he hadn't wanted to second-guess the action.

"Darling." She said politely.

"Fanor." He answered her, but his voice shook. She noticed and sat straighter. He walked over to her desk and gave her a weak smile, glancing back towards the door. "I've…just…rescheduled my plans…for the next week or so." She waited for him to continue. He thought of Mima outside the door and Josephine in here. His sister's presence…it was as much of a sign as he could glean. Josephine's outburst…her words…Mima's appearance…. "I…there are still my friends and my Keeper and…my clan there but…" he swallowed, "but rather than waiting…they sent my family to me."

"You mean…?" Josephine tried to make sense of his riddles. Zanrye sighed, inhaling to shakes. The fear crept on him too fast, threatening to disable him. But he would speak…if for nothing else but to prove that he was sure, a champion of Sylaise, a protector and cultivator of his family. He had to speak. For Mima….

"Mima." Zanrye called out. The door opened and Mima walked in, her expression calm and a bit surprised as she looked at Josephine. Josephine gave her the same expression until she saw Zanrye straighten and walk back towards the young woman. Her eyes became a bit wider then, and a bit…worried. Zanrye would have laughed had he not been fighting his shaking. _Another woman from his past_ , he read her thoughts.

"Ambassador Montilyet," he began and stopped, looking at Mima. She seemed to be piecing things together even now. Josephine's smile was somewhat fixed. He unlocked his joints, wrenched his teeth apart, and spoke. "Josephine…this…" he saw Josephine tense. "This is my little sister Mima of Clan Lavellan." Josephine started and Mima looked up at Zanrye, wondering as to the reason for such an introduction. He turned to Mima and looked her dead in her eyes. "Mima…this…is…" he turned from Mima to Josephine, biting his lip briefly. She was rooted to the spot. "This is Josephine. Ma'asha."

* * *

 ** _Helpful Information_**

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

-Mima- (woman) younger sister by five years. Hunter. Bow/arrow. Adruil markings.

ELVEN

vhenan: heart, love(r)

d'asha/dasha: little woman

ma'asha: my woman (girlfriend)


	24. Unsaid (Feat Josephine POV)

[Warning: Chapter contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity]

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

 ***Josephine dressed slowly** this morning. Her long shirt and fashionable tights seemed to weigh more than they had just a week before. Yet she was calm, a great deal calmer than she had been the previous night. Her heart had raced far too much for her to sleep well and her lingering thoughts made it all the more troublesome. She began on her buttons, contemplating the events. She had met Mima Lavellan, the only trueblood sibling to Zanrye. It had been a small thing, without preparation or ceremony and yet… _It was an important moment for him_.

After their fight the night before, Josephine had felt and feared the worst until he burst into her office and presented the girl—young, small, and with features similar to her brother, though she was darker of skin and eyes. Her expression had been one of surprise and after a pause that made Josephine want to chide him for his lack of planning, she stood and reached out her hand to the girl. Mima took it in a firm but small grip.

She had gone about her duties and returned to her room that night, trying to shake off the ill thoughts that plagued her: she tried to disremember Mima's comment of how Zanrye never once mentioned her to his only sibling; she tried to disremember how her Zanrye had been red in the face and nervous the entire time.

That night, he came to her later than she had expected and the worser part of her mind had actually entertained the possibility that he would not come. She had left them to talk and have the day for themselves as she had filled her schedule that morning, anticipating Zanrye's absence. But more than that, Zanrye had been off again in the secluded company of elves only…a hiatus from the…others by whom he was constantly surrounded…whose group Josephine was a part of.

These thoughts were calmed when she heard her door open and felt him slip into bed behind her, caressing her arm to ask if she was awake.

"What did you do today?" She asked him after an over-the-shoulder kiss. She resisted immediately asking about what they spoke of.

"Tour of the castle." Zanrye had explained. "Went down the path to the wood…talked…." There was a pause.

"Everything is alright?" Josephine asked in as optimistic a voice as she could manage against her bracing for the incoming news. Zanrye said nothing again for a second too long and then he enveloped her completely in his arms.

"Everything was good." He said, kissing behind her ear. "Everything is very good, ma'fanor." She smiled small and let him hold her tightly in his muscular arms that seemed even stronger after all his training with Thram. His body was yet on the sparer end but always seemed so large to her—muscles thickening and powerful. And yet, as with the previous night, so gentle as well. He did not stop there, pulling her close and sweetly kissing her neck and ears, whispering to her in his melodious language. "Nuvenan nerala ma." "Vhenan." "Nuvenan mar shasha."

Thinking of his deep whispers made Josephine feel as though she were being watched as she dressed so she speeded the process along. Already, she knew what some of the words meant. She had managed to enlist the help of one of Leliana's elven spies in coaxing the answers from Solas. She knew 'fanor' meant precious. She knew that 'nuvenan' meant wanting and 'neral' meant pleasure—not so innocent a word—even in Elven.

Josephine secured her hair into its crown and made her way to the door. He had called her vhenan last night though not for the first time; and he'd called her vhenan'ara on other occasions. The sweet configuration of letters left her heart beating fast but her mind puzzled. It meant 'heart.' It meant…love. _But does it?_ Josephine understood that the word was used for lovers and wives and husbands and those with whom you shared an intimate connection. But…for love…?

Despite herself, Josephine did wish for it to mean that and she felt all the more foolish for it. Zanrye Lavellan was the Inquisitor and a staunch elven nationalist—perfectly packaged with dragon's blood in his veins and a racist streak. Leliana yet was wary. As a leader, he was above adequate and getting better as days went by. But as a…lover? Was that what they were? Even not yet sharing the embrace that he desired and she both desired and feared? _But does he desire more than that?_ Josephine did not know if she was foolhardy but she believed that he did. She could still remember when he had eyed her strangely when Leliana forced them to confront their feelings. Since then, he displayed feelings of lust and desire and nurturance and liking. When…the "dancer" Dilys had caused a rift…Josephine had accepted his pleads only because they truly sounded genuine. The petrified look in his eyes had told her much of what she needed to know: he was terrified of her distrust or dislike. He was terrified of losing her.

Or perhaps that was thinking much too far. They had not yet said any vows or made many promises as of yet. It was premature to suspect too much of the past few months.

"Ambassador." A scout stopped her train of thought and her path. She turned to the woman who was leading a group of three in tow, Orlesian soldiers standing in a formation that was familiar to her. "They want to speak with the Inquisitor and the small council, ma'am."

"Of course." Josephine said instantly. "Might I inquire on what matters you are bringing to our attention?"

"The Inquisitor saved our lives and returned our champions home." The first man spoke, stepping forward. "He is to be commended and given special decoration to show our gratitude and awe of his skill and compassion."

"That is high praise." Josephine said. "And I thank you all. If you would follow me, I am sure I can make the arrangements—"

"With respect, Lady Montilyet," the soldier behind the lead man spoke up, his voice slightly raspy. "We would like to have a sit in where the Inquisitor is also present." He looked at the floor. "He saved my life…I want to look him in the eye as I deliver the news."

"Your sentiment is honorable," Josephine began, ready to dismiss the fanciful idea when the scout cleared her throat and interjected.

"These fine soldiers also understand if we have to arrange the sit in for another time they were telling me." She said to Josephine.

"Is the Inquisitor traveling?" The woman in the back asked, her armor a glistening silver with a red sash. "Our understanding from the merchant guilds was that he would be around Skyhold this week. We are happy to wait for him if it will only be a few days. If you have lodgings, we have brought the royals for it."

"While you are our guests, such exchange will not be necessary." Josephine said smoothly. "If you would wait at any of the main courtyards, halls, or our tavern, I will send servants with news of the Inquisitor and his availability."

The soldiers nodded and left her and Josephine turned to the scout. She didn't need to ask.

"I'll find him." The scout assured her **and was off.***

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

"And the entryway by the main gates also doesn't have the smartest ambush setup." Mima was telling Zanrye as they walked along the grounds together—their destination being the battlements. Zanrye was never bored by his sister. It had only been one day and already she had understood the general layout of Skyhold. Solas had gone with her to help give the latter part of the tour and now she was criticizing the setup.

"How is that?" He asked.

"Well the attackers can easily reach those coming in from the sides. They need to be higher for leverage. They might as well be walking in the same level." Mima said simply.

"I will speak to construction about your complaint." He said and earned her fierce look which made him have to stifle a grin.

"Why haven't you already made alterations? You've been here this long." Mima pointed out.

"That's Cullen's job." He said simply. "And Josephine's job to get the hands and funds." They began the climb and she did not say any more until they'd reached near the top.

"Are you going to tell me how that happened now?" She asked. Zanrye looked back at her, watching her inquisitive face peer at him, eyes open and without judgment so much as bewilderment.

"I told you what I could." He said gruffly. "It just…happened."

"And that leaves me nowhere better than where I started." Mima scoffed, walking over to him. He looked away from her, body tensing. He did not want to bring it up again, wishing it could be like yesterday when she'd asked him how that had happened and he'd given the same reply to which she had only laughed, disbelieving, and said no more about it. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Ma'lin…stop being so embarrassed."

"I'm not." He said. She laughed outright at that and he soon joined in with her.

"'I'm not'" She imitated him; he nudged her. "Of course you are. That's why you won't look me in the face." He looked up at her. "See, there's a start."

"I can't tell you exactly how it happened." He said finally. "It's been a long time…."

"It isn't…" Mima giggled before continuing, "it isn't about…" she inclined her head, "you know…pala." Zanrye chuckled.

"That hard to talk about, huh, woman?" He grinned.

"With my brother and a human, it is." She said, indignant. Zanrye shook his head.

"I wish…." He said, truthfully. "But no, it's…just a relationship."

"So it's full on esalath then?" Mima's eyes grew wide and excited. "Like…when you were with Kirina before?"

"Nothing like Kirina." Zanrye shook his head. "A lot better than Rina." He instantly regretted saying it and looked away.

"So dating…esalath with a human." Mima shook her head. "What's that like?"

Zanrye looked at his sister's curious eyes that stayed with a hint of repulsion in them. Dating a human was unthinkable even still to her and he hesitated, now knowing how to reply. Even his own sister would not fully understand his conflict.

Dating Josephine was more rewarding than he dared let himself admit but it was also frustrating. It was draining to think of his duty to his race and his feelings for her. It was embarrassment about her being human, Zanrye unable to count her as anything but an exception—despite Nishia's warnings. It was nerve wracking when he had to consider his image and how it would look for him—one of the only elves to gain recognition in human history—to choose a human as his lover publicly, trying to damage control what such a thing would mean to the world. And then there was the worrisome matter of New Arlathan and needing to keep her ignorant to its existence and his racially biased plans for it added just one more layer of drama to their dynamic.

But the frustrations went beyond even those. Their argument just two nights prior introduced another worry that Zanrye hadn't yet considered: how much Josephine knew. She knew little about his family and friends he realized. But more than that, she knew very little about his past. Where Josephine was continually sharing nostalgic occurrences about her life before the Inquisition, sharing with him her future wishes, and writing to her sister about him, Zanrye understood from her outburst that his life was yet mysterious to her. All they had shared, all the snippets he had given still had to be formed into a coherent story for her. His friends, lovers, sister, parents…and victims.

"It's…complicated." Zanrye said slowly. The complication would only be a bit understood by Mima, even as they grew up together. She feared the shems and was wary of them but had never seen them as anything but separate entities—her view of them impersonal, mirroring them to monsters of the night: outsiders. And then there were her experiences this past year—and the events at Wycome. Her appraisal was reactive. But his…had always been proactive.

Josephine did not know how many human lives he'd taken even before joining the Inquisition; how many he had tortured without a thought. She did not know his fear of humans—fear that still existed in him today though his time with the Inquisition had diminished it greatly. He had been ruthless with humans, doing things that he would never bat an eye about before but at the prospect of her finding out…and looking at him…with any trace of distrust, or any trace of shock, or mythal-forbid any trace of fear…. Zanrye wouldn't be able to handle that. Thinking about it now, thinking about telling Josie…suddenly all the "justice" he'd delivered onto the random human bystanders, the slaughter he'd performed on the villagers who happened to house those who took his mother's life, the torture he'd performed on those who owned elven servants in nearby cities…for the first time, Zanrye actually felt embarrassment for his actions. It was almost a guiltiness—almost a shamefulness.

"Why do you do it then? If it's so complicated?" Mima pressed. "Is it because you like how she… looks or…acts so much?" Zanrye looked at his sister, realizing how simple an answer should be but how hard it was for him to come up with such an answer. "I mean, I guess I get that they're your allies. The ones back in Wycome are…really normal actually—in a shemmy way. But romantically…."

"I guess I do it because," Zanrye started, "I do like her…the way she is…the way she looks—"

"Really?" Mima chuckled now and stifled it as quick as she could. Zanrye rolled his eyes, feeling a little more at ease.

"Really." He said flatly. "If you look at them as women—or men—their appearances become more of an aesthetic than you'd think at first glance."

"But they're so…" Mima had a hard time forming her words. "I mean…they have odd faces… and are unnecessarily big—not like Qunari…humans are…." Zanrye had to laugh at that.

"They are somewhat tall." He said. "But not by much." Mima shrugged. He sighed. "I don't know Mima. I just do this because…because I want to, despite my better judgment, I want to, inside myself. So...I choose my feelings." To his surprise, she nodded.

"Sort of like a pull, then?" She asked. Zanrye shrugged. "Odd. That a pull could exist between humans and elves who are actually in their right minds…. Maybe because you've been around them up here for so long…been in a lot of situations with them. That's how I first started to notice Milan—because of our missions gone wrong." Her rationalization was comforting and Zanrye could always count of her to be clear when he wasn't—like their mother and father taught them to be.

"I think that has something to do with it." He grinned. "I don't want to get away from her and all other humans as soon as possible so…these months have definitely changed me."

"Is she like the ones at Wycome? I mean, I have one too—sort of. Ren is a girl there who actually comes hunting with me sometimes." Mima told him. "It's building…a type of comradery I never really expected with a sh…" She paused. "Human."

"She's like them." He nodded. Then smiled. "Maybe even better." Mima crossed her arms, incredulous. "She may surprise you."

"Will I be doing more than just meeting her then?" Mima asked. Zanrye paused, understanding his word choice now.

"I…." He debated. "If…you…want?" Mima gave him one of her looks and he knew she was going to say something invasive before the sentence was formed.

"Rye." She said. He turned fully towards her. "Don't you want me to get to know her?" He said nothing, looking away. His sister continued, "Disregarding how odd her being a shem is?" Zanrye hesitated, wanting to lie to her like he lied to himself.

"You could. But you don't have to." He said, his best attempt at non-commitment. Mima waited, locking him with her eyes. He submitted. "It would…be good to try." Mima chuckled now.

"Lethalin." She giggled, keying him in wonder. He finally met those eyes of calculation, marvel, and understanding, trying to decipher her brother. He saw movement in his periphery but kept his eyes on her as she finished, that look on her face again. "Why are you so…embarrassed? So nervous?" He looked away and back. "Do you...love her?"

"Inquisitor." The movement stilled as a female scout took position a few feet away, nearly cutting Mima off. Zanrye turned to look at her, his sister turning as well.

"Go ahead." He said, glad to be able to leave that conversation.

"Lady Montilyet, ser." She said. "Soldiers from the Approach have come with regards and request an audience with you. She would have scheduled you but as you are presently here."

"And it's Celene's soldiers. I remember." Zanrye recalled how he had rescued them. "I'd be glad to come to them—see what preparations they want to make. I didn't expect them to keep contact like this but…it's good they do."

"Inquisitor." The woman bowed her head and ran to dispatch the message. He turned to his sister.

"Do you want to sit in on me getting honored for rescuing these soldiers?" He smirked.

"Sure." Mima said, following him back down the stone steps. "Then after, we should tour the perimeter. I didn't leave the grounds yesterday but invite your mage advisor. We can even make it a hunt."

"There isn't much game this far up." Zanrye apologized. His sister shrugged.

"I'm sure we'll find something." She said. She paused. "You don't have to answer my question until you want to…by the way."

She said this to his back. Zanrye didn't turn around, instead taking her up on her offer.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

 ***Zanrye came out** of the meeting with his sister right behind him. Josephine walked over to the both of them, having been ready to receive dates and times for this commendation endeavor. Zanrye came over to her immediately.

"It will be three days from now." He told her. "They will finance. It will be held in the Great Hall here."

"So soon?" She asked, Mima taking up place beside her brother.

"It must be." Zanrye explained. "I'm waiting on Cullen's signal once he finds the trail of Samson's factory…and I'm hoping the scouts are able to move faster through the Wilds but… I think that hope's in vain."

"Three days' time then." Josephine nodded. "I will get to work on out the hall and finding proper accommodations in the meantime."

"Do you want to come with us?" Mima suddenly piped up. Josephine turned to the girl, who looked dead at her. She felt nervous. "To the hunt—or tour. Rye and I were going to head there. Do you ride?"

"Not so well, unfortunately." Josephine admitted. "I am yet unsteady on horses. I would only slow you all down—"

"We could go slow. We only need to chase to retrieve the animal." Mima explained. Josephine felt her stomach turn to snakes as she looked from Mima to Zanrye, who hadn't said a word, peeking at her, face nearly unreadable.

"Thank you for the kind offer…" she began but as she looked to Zanrye again, she saw him fix on her face now, waiting for her refusal with a queer expression, yet unreadable. She stuttered. "I really…have so m-much to do…."

"It will only be a few hours." Mima urged, now smiling at her. Josephine saw the shadow of Zanrye in the girl's face when she did. Her eyes darted between the two, Zanrye now looking away again.

"I…I could possibly spare a few hours, yes." Josephine managed and Mima's smile widened.

"Great, great." She said. "We'll all meet at the lower courtyard, near the gates then. We have to get changed." She looked Josephine up and down. "You especially my lady."

That was how Josephine ended up with trousers on her legs, a fluffy coat over a cream-colored, long-sleeved blouse, and trotted behind them with her grip iron tight on the reins. They left Skyhold's shadow in the bright sun and walked onto the grassy hills awaiting them, mountainous gravel to both sides, separated by a mile. They had spotted another elf from the Biloro clan—Orulan—on their way and had swept him into their tour as well. He was a peculiar thing, quiet but not without his own type of animation.

She noticed Mima's fascination with the Keeper's second and even saw Zanrye throw a disgruntled look at his sister's subtle yet detectable flirtation. It made Josephine smile. The man said he'd just been sent with a message for Zanrye. Though Josephine was Biloro's envoy and manager, she knew Zanrye did not relinquish all to her. Though he might be oblivious, Josephine had begun to suspect where his near weekly visits beyond Skyhold took him. She had a few hints: the first was that, though Biloro had no doubt grown in all this time, Josephine received no word of any births or migrations; secondly, Zanrye's meeting with Tiana and now Orulan (both members of Biloro) were indicative to side-dealings over which Josephine could give no direction; lastly, though she could not be sure where his visits took him, Josephine suspected that Zanrye had to be visiting the same people. Mima's appearance with him after one such visit was enough to confirm Josephine's thoughts that Zanrye had contacts—from Biloro or some other clan—who had taken up residence near them.

 _He does not trust me_. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he was protecting these new tenants who were too afraid to deal with humans—one of the clans under her management had been that way. Josephine liked to air on the side of this positive option.

"I see a fennec." Solas said. Even Solas had come along with them. He was not bundled up. In fact, none of the others had coats, instead favoring thick cotton wraps: Zanrye wore a cloak. But Solas was the most naked, with only his usual garb and a shawl. Their party was a party of five and though Josephine took up the caboose, she was never far from someone, usually Zanrye.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet for the beginning of their journey, giving occasional comments to all. _He is nervous_. She thought, avoiding the more depressing option: that he was embarrassed.

"Come—this way Lady Josephine." Mima turned back to her and Josephine urged her horse forward, slow and steady. She climbed to the top of the little hill and stood beside Mima who pointed her knocked bow at the lonely fennec. Josephine saw the chasm between the two sides of the mountainous terrain begin and felt smaller at the sublimity of it.

"It's beautiful." She said.

"Yes, the view." Mima said in a strained voice, holding the arrow back. "Have you ever been this far out?"

"My duties keep me from seeing the extent of Skyhold." She admitted, staring at the line of foliage. Mima nodded as best she could.

"You should come out more often. Work will always be there." As soon as she finished her sentence, her arrow was flying. Josephine gave a little gasp and saw it drive through the fennec's neck. She looked away as Mima cheered and Zanrye, finally alive, galloped down the slope towards it, giving her praise. They retrieved the poor, limp animal and hooked it onto Mima's saddle.

"A kill on the cleaner end." Orulan said to her.

"Years of practice." Mima said modestly but her smile at him was not so modest. He gave a smile back to her, equal in measure. She turned to Josephine who looked sad but with a smile. "You don't like the hunt?"

"I was never a fan of the sport." Josephine said amiably. "The skill is astrounding but at the price of the creature's life…."

"The life is not taken in vain." Mima said. "This will be dinner. The skin will give me coverings for my shoes—of course I will need another then."

"The Dalish hunt in a different way." Zanrye spoke up. "It's…less of a 'sport,' the way most non-Dalish view the activity."

They followed along the edge now, with Josephine feeling a bit better about it. The stroll had Mima take lead for the better part of it, with Orulan a bit behind her and Solas a bit behind him.

She turned her head to where Zanrye's horse stood a bit antsy. His eyes moved from her instantly, his head now turned toward the form of his sister and Orulan. He had been doing that a lot this trip, Josephine noticed, pretending not to look at her—not to stare. Josephine too turned to watch the woman draw the heavy bow backward and arched from the strain. She had her sights on another fennec. Josephine truly did not enjoy hunting as much as her kin, or the elves, but enjoyed the precision and the smiles and anticipation and racing that would ensue. Her own horse was slow to follow, as she was not the steadiest on a galloping horse if alone. And though this was a time for merriment, she had secreted some important documents in her own satchel, pulling one of the letters out as Mima got ready to loose her arrow. She had it in hand when she looked toward Zanrye again in time to see him edging towards her.

"No time for working." He chided her.

"There is too much to do." She explained sweetly. "The reports from the Wilds are frequent now —almost panicked. And the situations in all our territories requires constant—"

"If our scouts pick up the trail again," Zanrye interrupted her before she could launch into a full rundown, "if…when we end this, where would you go?"

"Me? Go?" Josephine looked at him, puzzled. "Well there would still be need for the Inquisition, Inquisitor and much to be done for rebuilding and reimplementing the chantry and the Wardens. Then there would be—"

"I meant for a hiatus, Josie." Zanrye gave her his tired smile and Josephine silenced herself.

"We would hardly have time for such." She pointed out.

"Humor me." Zanrye said. "It's a hypothetical question, Josephine. Would you do the traveling we've talked about, see the world like you want to?"

Josephine almost blushed. _He remembered_. The comment made in passing, that seemed to have been uttered a lifetime ago, right before the Winter Palace…. She took a breath, thinking now. There were so many places she wanted to visit, so many things to see. Where would she go first?

"I think the Anderfels." She said finally. "If I could."

"The Anderfels?" Zanrye looked at her quizzically. "You would want to spend your time in that arid, hot kingdom as soon as we defeat Corypheus?"

"The conditions are not as comfortable as others we are used to," Josephine admitted. "But to experience the culture…see the art. Oh the art! Many famous pieces have come from the Anderfels, Zanrye. To see them up close…touch them…." Zanrye smirked at her.

"If you really want to…we can go there first I guess." He said in a voice too soft for his snarky look. Josephine smiled back at him as his eyes began to betray something less playful and he once again blinked elsewhere than her. Josephine trembled with **the slight wind.***

* * *

He had to turn away lest he start to look creepy; he urged his horse forward as the group moved along the rocky plain, the beginning of the mountain edge was their destination. He watched as Mima came back around with another dead fennec strapped to her horse. Josephine wrinkled her nose and Mima laughed.

"A clean kill leaves no pain, my lady." She said to the woman. Josephine pouted.

"A kill nonetheless." She shot back, causing Mima to chuckle. Orulan said something quiet that Zanrye didn't catch and neither did Mima who was now trying to coax Josephine's slow stroll into a trot. "Gain some speed," she urged the woman. "As long as you don't squeeze your heels too tight, he won't take off." Josephine protested, her body almost trembling. Mima's voice turned cajoling.

Zanrye watched this all with a funny feeling in his side and a dry throat. He had a goofy smile on his face and shared a look with Solas who was speaking to Orulan, whom he attempted to monopolize the entire trip, fighting Mima for him. It was natural here, and it felt good. Zanrye had his friend, his new friend, his sister, and his woman all out in nature's splendor, speaking with ease in the way he remembered speaking to his friends and family back home.

He could feel his heart ache for them now. But he could also feel something else there. It was an energy that seemed without direction or origin. And when he looked to Josephine reluctantly picking up the pace, it grew. He watched her in her thin garb and fluffy coat following his sister with a wistful look. When Josephine looked his way, her face uncomfortable and shy and good-natured all at once, the idea hit him hard and he smiled weakly, having to look away right after.

 _I want to have sex with her._ The feeling was there and it took all his strength not to have it show. But it was more than that…funnier than that. Because he didn't picture her lips or the outline of her breasts or even her breathless face beneath him when he gave her pleasure. What he saw was nothing but her, right there. And what he felt was some sort of lust pushed too far for him to properly handle. Because it wasn't just the desire to be inside her that he felt….

 _I want to make her pregnant_. He did not understand the feeling that stirred deeper than his stem or his gut or his throat or his chest though it touched all those places at once. _I want her to be—_

"The first fennec is turning ripe." Mima complained as they trotted along, breaking him from his thought. She frowned. "They were split up pretty far."

"The first we caught was off course from the group we saw later." Zanrye shrugged.

"They both need to be dressed and skinned." Orulan spoke up. His eyes were on Zanrye when he said this, giving him that arched brow look he had given him all trip.

"Are we ready to head in then?" Mima asked, turning to Zanrye and Solas. "I could always do with the rest of the Skyhold tour—found a passageway between the kitchens and an eastern room the other day…."

"I wanted to collect some rashvine for lyruim potions." Orulan said before Zanrye could respond. "I will stay for a bit but let you go on ahead with the animals."

"Are there rashvine families growing in this area?" Zanrye asked, sure that there wasn't.

"Yes." Orulan said. "Keeper had this area checked specifically and so assigned me the task."

"I'm sure I have a bit left." Solas said to him.

"No, I'm going to need quite a bit. My clan wants this specifically." Orulan said.

"Our stores—"

"It is not meant to be taken from the Inquisition directly." Orulan interrupted as Solas made another attempt. He turned to Zanrye. "This was a task you said you would fulfill Inquisitor."

"Did I?" Zanrye asked him, bewildered.

"Your Ambassador approved the request in one of the clan's agreements." Orulan said, looking at Josephine who looked surprised as he was. "You do not have to collect it yourself but you were to aid me if I requested as much."

"I did not realize I overlooked this detail." Josephine frowned, her face troubled.

"It's of little matter because it's being done now." Orulan said simply. He looked to Mima and Solas. "You should get that animal back before the smell worsens." He turned to Zanrye. "Solas can speak with your authority and escort Lady Lavellan?"

Zanrye blinked at him, having to catch his breath.

"She walks with near my authority as it is." He began but sure enough Orulan interrupted him.

"Just in case, so that she has access to the kitchen supplies, Solas should go." He stated matter of fact-like. Zanrye turned to Solas who looked from Orulan to the Inquisitor with slight suspicion and then nodded, turning to Mima who gave her brother a look.

"We're having these for dinner." She warned him.

"I wish you would leave the cooking to me." He replied. She gave him a beaming grin and pressed her heels into her beast, taking off. Solas followed her with one last look at the three of them, his eyes on Orulan. The look was clear and Zanrye felt the same. He turned to the red-haired man.

"Did you need to speak with me, Orulan?" He asked the man who gave him the frankest eyes Zanrye had ever seen.

"No." He said simply, turning to Josephine. "But I would like help collecting my herbs. Ambassador, if you would be so kind as to just follow and jot down where they are in fact growing." Josephine eyed him quizzically but gave him a slow nod. He moved over to Zanrye's side and looked him in the eye, his voice now low. "I lied, by the way. About the letters. And about the rashvine. You're welcome, Zanrye." Before Zanrye could blink, he turned his horse and walked closer to the gravelly start of the mountain ranges. "I will be on this side. I'll meet with you both in an hour or so."

There was a silence as he faded from their sight. Josephine eyed Zanrye who watched Orulan's shadow fading, realizing what the man had done. A small smile came to his face.

"Is all well?" Her eyes held an inkling of knowing. "What did he say to you? I couldn't hear." Zanrye held his smile and turned towards the trees, Josephine urging her horse to follow.

"That I'm very conspicuous." Zanrye said with a laugh. "Come on. Let's head that way."

* * *

 ***"You realize of** course that this is a fool's errand, Zanrye?" Josephine asked him a few minutes into their somewhat silent journey along the grassy path. She knew very well what herbs grew around Skyhold…. Zanrye laughed outright at that and turned to look back at her.

"You're right." He agreed, slowing down to that they walked side by side. "There isn't any rashvine here at all. And the letter was a lie too."

"He lied to send us away." Josephine chuckled. Zanrye turned his grey eyes on her.

"He lied to give us privacy." He corrected. Josephine laughs and so does he but the way that he gazes at her makes Josephine look away. It was akin to the looks he gave her when he stole kisses in her office or gripped her chest when those kisses were wetter and on her neck. But it was softer than that…like the ones he gave her in the mornings or the way he gazed down at her before they cuddled in close together before sleep.

"Why are we still following his errand, then?" She finally asked, after her embarrassment passed.

"I've been to this side before." He said. "Nearer to the actual mountain beginning but the edge of the line of trees should also give us a view." He turned a kinder smile on her. "After what we put you through today, I think it'd be nice to sit for a while, by the pass."

It was true. Josephine had had quite a deal of excitement from the running and hunting alone, and the self consciousness of being an odd woman out and shirking her duties finally melted away as their day went on. Still, it would be nice to change the pace to something…calmer.

Calm was not the way she would describe Zanrye, however. They trotted further now, through the thickets of woody patches and she could feel tension from him. He was not angry but….

"I'm cold." She said after a few more minutes. Though away from the wind that had begun to be more palpable, the shade of the wood had made the temperature drop. Her furry coat was a thin one regardless. Zanrye looked at her and then ahead.

"Here." He slid off his horse and raised his arms to help her from her own. He did all this without telling her his plan and Josephine slid down into him and watched him walk her horse to a nearby tree and tie it there, shushing it. When he turned back, his face was plain but pink as he offered his hand to help her onto his own horse.

"Why did we leave him behind?" She inquired as to her horse's temporary abandonment as Zanrye fitting his arms around her and squeezed his horse into a very fast trot.

"So that we could reach the edge faster." Zanrye explained. The edge of the forest came much quicker then with him taking the reins and the sunshined area was considerably springier, and the trees yet blocked the wind. Zanrye stopped a few feet from the chasm that separated this side from the mountains across, sliding off of the horse and helping her down once more. Josephine walked tentatively towards it, the view both scenic and the slightest but scary as the side grew closer into view. She turned to find Zanrye taking the draping from the horse and place it on the ground. She walked back to him, smiling as she did so.

"We have all but our basket and wine." She teased him. Zanrye rolled his eyes and sat on the thick square. She sat beside him, feeling the ground hard but smooth beneath the blanket. Zanrye's own cloak he took off and wrapped around her shoulders as well. "Are you not cold, darling?" She asked him. Zanrye looked dead in her eyes and gave a small smile.

"I'm hot as a fire." He assured her. Josephine shivered under his stare and his arm came to wrap around her.

 **She believed him.***

* * *

"They won't miss us." Zanrye assured her again. They sat close with his cloak around her shoulders, looking over the expanse.

"I do not think I could fully enjoy it knowing my other duties still needed to be attended." Josephine said.

"A week without us won't kill the Inquisition." Zanrye scoffed. "We proved that before."

"That was not yet a week and within fast travel—not all the way to the Anderfels." She had him there. Zanrye surrendered the point and the silence settled over them. She inhaled happily after a time.

"We do not get much time." She started again. "We probably won't ever get much time. But I am glad we did this today." He rubbed her shoulder as she spoke.

"I liked seeing you today, out and about." He admitted. "It was really nice…and I'm glad you were able to be comfortable." He paused. "You were, right?"

"I was, even with the poor fennecs." Josephine said, to which Zanrye laughed. "I was more worried about you." She said this with honest eyes and Zanrye cocked his head. "Your mind seemed to be with us and without us, I think."

"I was just thinking." Zanrye said.

"Good thoughts, I would hope." Josephine stressed. Zanrye smiled small and the warmness in his gut came back. He said nothing for a time, staring at her. She blinked, searching his eyes and small smile for whatever he was hiding. Zanrye let her wonder, let the warmness enlarge to a heat and then placed a hand on the side of her face. She placed one of her own over it, closing her eyes and opening them again. Zanrye took her in, her nose and cheeks and lips, and then he moved to kiss her.

The kiss was deep to start and Josephine exhaled just as deeply into it. Zanrye captured her mouth, building the kiss until he had to end it. His lips stayed near hers.

"I was just observing." He said softly to her when they parted, sliding his hand from her shoulder to the side of her neck, giving it a light squeeze.

"Us?" She asked in a quiet voice, referring to the group. Zanrye's hand ran along her back and he kissed her lightly again.

"Mostly just you." He said, eyes half closed as he interlocked their lips again and started another kiss. Josephine was already tightening her fingers, her lips slightly trembling. _She knows_. He could tell when he kissed her and pulled back enough to look into her eyes with his nearly closed ones that she knew how tightly bound he felt, how strong his desires had grown as soon as their couple's stroll had commenced. _I want her to know_. He looked down at her cloaked body and ran his knuckles over her front, stopping at the area where her hand made the two sides meet. He pushed a finger through but she resisted, her eyes bright and face red.

"It's cold." She said softly, looking up at him with eyes that only served to make him more aroused. His cheek twitched, wanting to smile.

"It is." He agreed lightly and pressed his hand further in and contacted her own. Though sheltered from the low temperature, they were yet colder than his. He took one in his hand and maneuvered his free hand also under the cloak, behind her back. "You're colder than I am."

"The sun only reaches some areas." Josephine explained unnecessarily. Zanrye did not entertain it, instead leaning forward to kiss her again, this time even harder. She seemed startled but made no move to stop him. He released her from the kiss and took both her hands in his, kissed, them, and placed them underneath the front of his shirt.

Josephine gasped, both at his action and at the warmth his torso offered to her. Her hands were not very cold but the change in temperature was felt. He kissed her again and this time received the weight of Josephine's enthusiasm as he made her warm in more than just her hands. The kiss left him and her both panting this time. He stroked her cheek as her hands moved further up his chest, seeking more and more of his body heat.

"Let me warm you up." He said, this time in a whispered voice that did not mask any of his intentions. Josephine's response was to hesitate, snuggle in even closer, and give him an open-mouthed kiss.

* * *

 ***She couldn't recall** how he'd come to loom over her, in between her legs, shirt pushed up to his shoulders, hands running over her body. She did not quite remember the events that led to her losing her coat and one of her shoes. But she did remember his voice and his eyes, hands sure and steady as they asked for the cloak to unwrap and for her hands to touch.

It'd driven her absolutely mad.

She was gratified when he touched her, held her in his arms. His lips and tongue never left her and her hands grabbed at his warm back, clinging to him. His mouth on her neck kissed and sucked like she could not recall him ever doing before, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from her that she could vaguely register and was sure all of Skyhold heard.

His hand once again went for her shoes—her last remaining shoe. Lips traveling, kissing her front, pushing the fabric of her blouse down to get a purchase.

"Zan…" Her words were weak as she forced her mind from the pleasure to his hands reaching beneath her long blouse and to the buttoning of her pants. He heard her and brought his mouth back up to hers in response, kissing her hungrily, his fingers pulling through her pant fastens with record speed. "Zan." She repeated stronger this time.

Zanrye had her pants undone and pulled back to view her with a hooded gaze, awaiting words from her. At first, she had none, only hurried pants and flushed cheeks. He liked what he saw beneath him, waiting for three measly seconds and then returned to kissing her again, moving down once more to use his lips on her breast. She shook, eyes closing despite herself. His hands pulled her pants. Josephine found her voice.

"I…" she stammered through her panting. "W-we can't…not out here…not now."

His mouth did not move from her breasts; and though his hands did not pull at her pants anymore, they stayed on her legs, groping at them and smoothing them over. When Josephine managed his name through her breaths once more, he rose to look at her again, with a wearied rising. His head hung. Her hands remained on his back even still.

"Josephine…." Josephine inhaled sharply as he whispered her name, eyes closing almost as if in pain, "Maker, I want you." Her heart beat faster than it already was, face becoming as hot as her body. He gazed down at her with eyes that held so much desire that she could not speak once more. He continued for her. "I want to have you…. I want to make you…." His gasping voice broke off and he scrunched his eyes and opened them wider now. "I could please you, Josie. I can make you…." Again, his voice trailed off as he looked at her. Josephine stared back and then spoke in a voice too soft for how loud her heart was hammering.

"I can't…I'm not…" She could not finish. But she knew from his eyes that Zanrye understood what she was going to say. He was still for several seconds before finally he exhaled slowly and rose up further, all the way to his hands and knees. Josephine watched his mind work and his breath slow. Her body felt suddenly colder, hands sliding from his back, and just as suddenly, she had the urge to cry, the feeling beginning deep in her stomach with the corners of her eyes beginning to hurt. Another several seconds passed and the sentence began, "I-I'm sor—"

"Don't." Zanrye interrupted her. His voice was firm but not harsh. Josephine felt the wetness finally reach her eyes and start to well up as her emotions came too fast for her to control. He continued, eyes running down her body but never meeting her gaze, "Don't apologize…just for saying no…." His ruddy face and mussed hair seemed to hang like the rest of him, deflating at her refusal. But his eyes never stopped moving. Her tears now fell from the edges of her lids and her next intake of breath came accompanied by the shuddering of sorrow. _I'm sorry…._

"Zan—" She tried to start but the voice that came out of her was that of a girl, timid and squeaky so she halted, feeling more tears begin to follow the others. Zanrye still had not lifted his gaze from her and finally ran his hands over her legs, reached for the waist of her pants, and pulled the fabric all the way to her knees before she gave a puzzled, "what are you doing?"

Zanrye's eyes finally met hers as he continued to remove her pants from her obedient legs, the cold hitting her now. His look had the shadow of disappointment; but there was something else too. There was a calmness there. He pushed up her blouse, eyes still on hers and reached for her smallclothes. Josephine rose a feeble hand which he caught in his free one. His calm words accompanied Josephine's tear-induced sniffles, after which her confusion was finally gone—along with **all her protests.***

* * *

The ride back home was made on one horse, the other linked behind. It was a setting sun that saw them on their way. Josephine sat sideways before him, in his arms, wrapped up in the cloak as they made the trek in near silence. Her body molded into his, seeking out his touch and he kissed her head every so often.

Zanrye's mind felt numb and alive all at once. He could not remember—since Po had died—when he felt as emotional as he had just an hour ago. He could not properly digest it—the entire day leading up to then.

Josephine shifted in the saddle and he shifted to accommodate her. The woman in his arms was not crying anymore. Although she had—because of him. _Because it was too fast…_. Zanrye had wanted her like he'd never wanted anything else in his life—so much so that when she spoke her rejection, he hadn't known what to do for a good few seconds. He had felt near physical pain then; and desire still; that pain that touched so much of him….

But then her tears had come; and he'd been jumpstarted back to life. His mind cycled through the words and the events and when the tears came—as if suddenly switched on—Zanrye found himself moving. He'd spoken what he meant to say, done what he'd meant to do. _I made her cry, but I made her stop crying too._

Zanrye had seen her weeping from her eyes and in between her legs as well and knew he needed to silence both. When she tried to stop him, he'd almost broken down again but his words saying "I didn't mean to make you cold," stopped her in her tracks; he'd fulfilled his purpose then, removing obstructions and kissing away all the wetness flowing out of her. Her sniffling turned to panting and then moaning, with her knees rising and hands reaching down to grab at his hair in her frenzied pleasure. The moans soon turned into her melodic cries and with her arched back and opening flower, Josephine cried once more; Zanrye caught all of her tears.

He'd finished after her, and held her as the minutes went by, feeling a strange aching niceness wash over him. Then they saddled up and rode towards Skyhold, with a sense of closeness between them that made Zanrye's chest hurt. Once again, she shifted closer to him. Once again, he accommodated ad kissed her hair softly.

* * *

 ***Skyhold loomed above** them as they moseyed their way to the front gates. Josephine knew they should separate or move—even get to different horses. But she did not. She sat there, in Zanrye's strong arms, feeling his heartbeat over her.

She felt the stiffness of her salty cheeks and inhaled contentedly. In his pain, he'd promised her that he could please her, make her feel ways he couldn't finish speaking of.

Then he fulfilled his promise. Josephine hadn't tried to stop him when it became clear what he was going to do. Her misgivings were nonexistent and when his mouth wrapped around her, Josephine felt her entire body inflame. He'd gone in between her legs with the same intensity as he had done for her neck and left her arching and shaking and crying out by the time he decided to stop. When he had released his own pleasure and crawled up to wrap her in his arms and eventually hum some nonsense to her, Josephine felt… _safe_. She couldn't describe it in better words than that. She'd felt safe then and happy and suddenly very, very tired.

She would have slept there had it not been for the cold and now as they approached Skyhold, Josephine felt content but not without the nagging feeling just on the edge of her consciousness that a stone had been left unturned. She softly kissed his chin as the gates opened, to which he responded by kissing her nose and the inkling was stronger but no more speakable. As she opened her mouth, various words battled to be said, each fitting perfectly. The word entered her mind just as she was about to speak but was pushed aside in favor of a "thank you." Zanrye's smile was serene.

"Thank you." He responded in kind and they entered in through the gates, awaited by passerby soldiers and guests and scouts, the woods not so **far behind them.***

* * *

 **Helpful Information**

Josephine POV starts and ends with bold, if that helps.

OBSCURE ELVEN (all rights to fenxshiral)

esalath- dating

nuvenan- want

nerala-pleasure

pala- sex

NON-INQUISITION CAST

Mima- Zanrye's younger sister by five years.

Orulan- Biloro's second, Zanrye'e mage companion


	25. A Lot To Lose

CROSSROADS

"What is this place called?" Zanrye asked Morrigan as he walked through the eluvian and into the pale glow that washed over the various pathways around them. It almost looked like a road, or a piece of a city. As soon as Mima had left, Morrigan had taken him aside. Zanrye did not know what to expect from the eluvian but certainly did not think he'd find himself here.

"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost." Morrigan replied. Zanrye stepped forward towards the basin in the middle of the cobblestones—if they were cobblestones. He could not tell. He felt as though he were in the fade…and in the real world. Morrigan's voice came back. "I call it the crossroads."

"The crossroads." Zanrye repeated, speaking the word true for himself.

"Tis the place where all eluvians join, wherever they might be."

"That's…that's amazing." Zanrye said, not able to stop himself from reaching out with his hand and waving it into the thinly thickened air.

"Your ancestors left no roads." Morrigan said. "Only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This… this is how they traveled between them." Zanrye nodded slowly, taking it all in. He wished he'd brought Lana with him—to see this. Experience this.

"How did you find out about this place Morrigan?" Zanrye asked.

"My travels have led me to many strange destination, Inquisitor." Morrigan replied. "Once, they led me here." Her voice grew soft. "It offered sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"Not all the mirrors lead back to our world." Morrigan explained. "The ancients were nothing if not…resourceful."

"If they don't lead back to our world, then…?" Zanrye prompted her, confused.

"Places between." Morrigan replied. "Like…this one." She paused. "I can describe it no better." Zanrye was shocked. _Morrigan at a loss for words? She can't explain?_ "For a time…I was safe from those who hunted me. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever."

Zanrye said nothing, instead taking the time to take a few more steps around the center. There was not water in the circle, nor was there a bottom. It was more mist, like that surrounding the two of them. More magic….

"As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable." Morrigan continued, speaking truth, as many—most—were dark.

"And the light ones…?" Zanrye asked.

"A few can be opened from this side." Morrigan said. "But only a few."

"From here?" Zanrye's brow furrowed.

"Well some have been left unlocked—like doors accidentally left ajar." Morrigan explained as she walked around the circular stone. Zanrye followed. "But all others are closed. They can only be opened from beyond."

"How?" Zanrye asked.

"With a key, as any door would require." Morrigan said, and Zanrye could detect the slightest bit of a smirk on her lips.

"And I suppose you have a key." Zanrye replied with a smirk of his own.

"The key can be many things, Inquisitor." Morrigan said. "Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Most times that is enough." Zanrye nodded and thought.

"And so…Corypheus wants…to come here?" He asked. Morrigan nodded. "Because…" he looked about him at the dim lights and then once more down the well. "It feels like…like the fade."

"This, while not the fade, is very, very close." She said. "Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…"

"And enter the fade in the flesh." It all clicked for Zanrye. "That's what Corypheus wanted to do with the anchor."

"He learned of the eluvian in the arbor wilds as I did." Morrigan nodded. "Though his progress is slow, he will marshal the last of his forces to reach it."

"What more forces does he have?" Zanrye couldn't help but ask. "We've rooted out Venatori, we took away his demon army, we took the mages, we kept Val Royeaux and Teviner from him. He has the Templars I guess…."

"And that's all he may need." Morrigan said, her voice warning as she took strides back to the eluvian. Zanrye moved to keep up with her. She spoke as she walked. "You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him—soon."

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Zanrye set off to find Solas immediately after he left Morrigan. His friend would surely have more information for him and help absolve him of his lingering confusion. He went to his room but found Solas absent. Zanrye frowned. He went to the meadow outside the tavern and still found nothing. Becoming desperate, he ran back to the steps of the main building and saw the wolf, looking both uncomfortable and angry. Zanrye did not slow his stride.

"No!" Solas said as he thundered down the stairs. With that tone, whatever Cole was trying to convince Solas of, he should know that he was not getting it.

"But you like demons!" Cole was pleading.

"I enjoy the company of spirits, yes," Solas said in a softer voice but did not stop walking. "Which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings." Zanrye crept closer, his walk slower.

"It isn't abuse if I ask!" Cole insisted.

"Not always true." Solas turned to face him. "Also, I do not practice blood magic which renders this entire conversation academic!" He looked around, perhaps self conscious, and his eyes met Zanrye's. He saw the man's lips stick together. Cole turned as well and made his way over. _What did I just walk into?_

"He won't bind me!" Cole told Zanrye, as a child might tell on his sibling to their mother. "He's a mage and likes demons but he won't help!"

"Cole…" Zanrye tried to be gentle. "We just got done with the grey wardens trying to raise an army of demons, and red templars all over the graves. And you want Solas to bind you?"

"He has to!" Cole pouted, pacing now. Zanrye looked to Solas whose eyes were grave. "If he won't do the ritual, someone else could—will! Like the warden mages, and then—I'm not me anymore!" He paused, his eyes widening in that far off way, muttering, "Walls around what I want, blocking bleeding, making me a monster…."

"Cole, Cole." Zanrye interjected. "Isn't it extreme to ask Solas to bind you? That could also take away…um…you." He looked to Solas for help. The man gladly spoke up.

"If binding erases your mind?" He spoke with more authority. "Your consciousness?"

"Well you wouldn't make me hurt innocent people." Cole said. His face looked ready to cry. "I don't want to hurt innocent people again." Zanrye sighed, looking over at Solas.

"There has to be middle ground here." He said. "Something between "do nothing" and "have Cold bound with blood magic.""

"Indeed." Solas nodded. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit, wearing the amulet of the unbound, was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well."

"Good." Cole said firmly, walking away from them. His voice was resolute. "They will not take me." As he made his way off, Solas looked to Zanrye who gave him a frank stare.

"Lethallin." Solas sighed. "It's good that you ran into us, it would seem."

"Is the amulet even real?" Zanrye asked.

"Yes." Solas nodded. "It should not be too hard to obtain. We could get it by the evening if we went now—not us of course but…Leliana…."

"I'll set her to task." Zanrye nodded. They stood there for a brief moment.

"I…" Solas hesitated. "I was actually thinking of you before Cole requested my assistance."

"I was looking for you." Zanrye said suddenly. "I almost forgot."

"What did you need of me?" Solas asked. Zanrye paused, trying to remember.

"Some…elven…knowledge." He said slowly. "But what did you need? Mine wasn't as pinpointed." Solas hesitated once more. He seemed to be deliberating on whether or not to speak, whether or not to share whatever was on his mind. "There won't be time left for words in a few days Solas." That seemed to do the trick as Sola rose his head and nodded.

"Time grows short." He agreed, his eyes on something farther off. "I wonder if we will be triumphant against Corypheus—wonder if all this will have been for naught." His gaze turned back to Zanrye. "I also wonder about you, my friend."

"Still have to wonder?" Zanrye chuckled.

"About you before." Solas explained. "About the wisdom you hold and the mark's effect on it… my effect." The pause that came after was too long. "You have proven friend and family to me, and I expected not to find someone so worthy…." Zanrye's brow furrowed and he stepped over to Solas, hand firmly placed on the man's shoulder.

"You make it sound as if we're already dead, da'fen." He said lowly. "We aren't yet. Almost but not yet. If this succeeds, not for a long time." Solas smiled at him in return yet he was distant.

"Inquisitor." Orulan came strolling up to him and Zanrye instantly nodded to him, deciding then to back away from the issue, pocketing it for a later release.

"I'll tell Leliana about the amulet." He said to Solas. "See if we can take care of these things before the end of the evening."

"You had questions." Solas reminded him. Zanrye nodded, contemplating.

"Questions that can wait." He responded. "Duty calls unfortunately." Orulan had waited patiently and was now side by side with Zanrye as they began their walk. "You have news?"

"Lana waits for you." Orulan said to him. "Tiana has written back. As has your Clan. The scouts are making ground in the Wilds so Biloro feels it's time to make ground ourselves."

"Perfect." Zanrye said. "Alright." He inhaled a breath that was a tad shaky, realizing that thing were indeed speeding up. Though he had so much to do, he realized that he had little time. Morrigan had said it in the crossroads: they needed to act soon. Corypheus was moving slow but not that slow. And whatever he was searching for was in the woods. They had to reach it before he did or all would be lost.

"Everything will be fine." Orulan said to him. "If we can make it through the wilds without fault and then ready Tiana, all will be fine." Zanrye turned his gaze on the ginger haired man now.

"You're right." He agreed. "But I want to make sure everything is in motion. Let's head to Lana now. Has she summoned…?"

"Everyone we need." He nodded.

"Good then." Zanrye said. "Let's gather round and do this."

* * *

PRESENT

NEW ARLATHAN

They sat in the back room of the large tent turned building that housed all the leaders and, more specifically, Lana. She had shooed away all her other elven companions and drawn up large maps on the central table, which was rectangular rather than round. Zanrye sat next to her, looking at the wooden figures that she had clearly made herself—as they were jagged and rough. On his right was Orulan, who had stripped from his cloak and thick tunic into a wool shirt and pants. Beside him was Dilys, who was more covered up than usual as the weather in the mountains demanded. Whereas Skyhold parted the trees, New Arlathan was engulfed by them and the sunshine that penetrated carried lesser heat. The parchment before them was a detailed map of southern Thedas, with the colors opposite of what would usually be seen, with the pockets of elven groups being highlighted.

"There are at least a few thousand agents in Orlais already." Zanrye told the table. "So there is no way in all the void that we will lose that area."

"More common elves to your cause." Dilys smiled at him. "And yet you still refuse to take the easy way out—why not just kill this Briala?"

"I was also wondering that." Orulan said. "Tiana has more than enough influence by now."

"Not as much as Briala will have." Lana scoffed. "She is a symbol. She is the rebellion. Without her, we cannot guarantee the power of the city elves behind us."

"But will she turn on us if she finds out?" Dilys pressed. "It will not be so hard to connect us to the assassination."

"She doesn't have a reason to suspect us." Zanrye said. "And if she would connect us, to turn on us for Celene would show that she isn't better than some bed-rabbit."

"She was resolute in the past. But now her resolve weakens the more she spends time with the Empress. Love is a stronger force than almost anything."

"It's more than that." Lana said finally. "Briala. Is. A symbol; of both the revolution and elves in their station in the new Orlais. She is the first and only Marquise."

"But," Orulan suddenly piped up, eyes bright, "If we could get a new Marquise…appointed by Gaspard…." The proposition was a daring one. Enticing, but of low value.

"That would set us back," Zanrye said, frowning as he tried to process it.

"Besides, that would look like the Duke is trying to appease people." Dilys said lightly. "A grasping attempt with a newly-instated ruler. Not quite the ripple that Celene caused, yes?"

"Unless it could be made into a ripple." Orulan said, eyes narrow as the idea filled his head. He tried to speak it to them so they could also see the picture. "If Gaspard's appointee could be just as big as Celene's was—"

"It cannot." Dilys interjected. "Celene has already seized the zeal of newness."

"But not of progress." Orulan said.

"Of course she has." Zanrye scoffed. "There's never been an elf in any high station save for royal jester or bedwarmer."

"What was Briala besides that, though?" Orulan pressed. "Celene appointed her personal elf as the Marquise. The first elf in history but also someone in her pocket and in her bed. Not progressive so much as a display of Celene's power in the end." The idea was just beginning to make sense in Zanrye's mind when Dilys suddenly nodded.

"I…think…he may be right." She said slowly. "Briala will never command the respect that she could otherwise have if Celene was not attached to her skirt."

"Exactly." Orulan continued. "If the Duke introduced another elf as a Marquis or Marquise of his own volition without the sway of love or lust, then that elf would be more accepted and the act would be one of progress."

"Plus, a chevalier's honor—which he is known to have—will act a shield against the forthcoming rumors about his potential romance with said elf." Dilys sounded impressed when she said the words. "And, if Celene and Briala were to be slayed together…"

"Then it would be seen as an assassination on their love." Orulan finished. "That would make it sensational enough for Gaspard's takeover to be seen as a stabilizing force and then his appointment of another elven noble to be seen as a righting of wrongs with a more appropriate elven candidate—free from the reputation that Briala had."

"The new and the old all in one." Dilys smiled now. "That would be nice work if it could be pulled off." Zanrye was taken aback for a time before he inhaled.

"Orulan, I can't tell if you're a historian, a general, or an Orlesian politician." He said somewhat weakly. Orulan smiled at him.

"I'm the Keeper's Second." He said modestly. "And was allowed privilege to travel when and where I pleased. I've learned a lot along the way, your Worship."

"Okay, well apart from the transition in Orlais," Lana interjected, "We need to discuss the movement of our people in both Arlathan, Wycome, the Plains, and the Western Approach. Half of our clan is moving to the Wilds to catch up with your scouts, Nishia included. Biloro…?"

"We are also ready to move," Orulan said. "Completely integrate with the new territories in this New Arlathan empire. Of course some will stay in the Approach, and thus guard Solaslan, but many will come as far as here—around Skyhold. We are already sending a third of our warriors to the wilds as well, to meet with one of our leaders."

"Triangulate movements with Inquisition as well as Lavellan." Zanrye said. "Come to a common location and make sure to stay together in your camps."

"And this mass migration," Orulan continued, "And your Ambassador?" Zanrye paused, thinking. Dilys's eyes were calm and trained on him. As were Lana's.

"Keep the reports steady." He said finally. Dilys's sudden laugh startled him. Her eyes were skeptic and near condescending as they surveyed him piercingly.

"So little trust, my halla?" She asked him. Zanrye felt himself redden, anger building in his gut. She poked too deep. He didn't respond to her and looked instead to Lana.

"How big is Keeper Hawen's camp now?" He asked, referring to the clan he'd met while clearing out venatori, bandits, and fade rifts from the Plains.

"They have been growing, though still refuse to settle. Must keep migrating they say." Lana said. "As to be expected."

"As to be expected." Zanrye sighed. "Alright, so everyone sends a little."

"Rye." She interjected. "Arlathan is growing too. We've now well over a thousand bodies, just some ways away from a full double in a few months." He knew what she meant before she continued. "We keep growing, we'll need more room for expansion without getting too close to the shems. They're already spreading now, as more and more join your Herald cause." Zanrye knew that. He had been preparing for this, trying to wrack his brain for the right way to handle the inevitable. They were not yet ready, he thought. Not ready to fully reveal themselves. They were too few, not enough fighters, not enough families. And not enough time for him to think of what to tell Josephine….

"Just keep expanding further south until I can think of what to do." He said lamely. Lana crossed her arms. "I've been moving as many as I can into Skyhold without—"

"They will know of us in time." Lana said sternly. "Best be prepared for it, Rye."

With that sound scolding, they continued on with their meeting. Since Lana had suggested it, Zanrye had seen fit to bring both Orulan and Dilys into his circle of councilors—Tiana as well. He slowly but soundly got them up to speed and as they gained knowledge of his plans and contributed like they were doing now, he felt the burden of command slowly ease, as if he had been holding in a breath only to now release it into the wind. With Lana's cautious insight, Dilys's savvy ambassador brain, and Orulan's surprising and somewhat ruthless pragmatism, it seemed he had his own second small council for his secondary kingdom. Not an Inquisition precisely but something close. Tiana was also up to speed but she was their liaison with the elves in the city, gaining their trust as quickly as she could.

"Okay, and let's say this works," Zanrye said at their closing, their talk of Orlais once again brought to the forefront, "we need to start thinking of someone that can be Gaspard's Briala."

"And a way to do away with both of them the same day, preferably at the same time." Orulan added. Zanrye withheld a wince at the bluntness of his sentence.

"I will attempt to gather agents for it to help Tiana." Lana said.

"And I will seek out my contacts." Dilys said. "My troupe is used to shems of all types and kinds and some are masters of dealing with them, invited to private showings and parties. And not all of my people perform our indoor services." The way she referred to prostitution almost made Zanrye smile. "I will not cause a stir in this of course."

"I trust you to be discreet." Zanrye said. "Not that the troupe leader doesn't already know it was you who got the Inquisition's blessing."

The small council sessions finally ended and Zanrye left the ever-growing village to venture once more into the thicket of woods over to the cabin where his later meeting would be held. He dismounted, nodded to the elven guards, and walked into the house with no hesitation. Each visit, he had become more and more lax until he could now walk into the Gaspard's cabin and greet the man with no weariness nor wariness.

"Your Worship." Gaspard responded in kind, sitting at the table with broth in front of him. He had been exercising once more and sweat was on his forehead. When is he not, Zanrye thought.

"Duke." Zanrye sat at the table before him. Gaspard made to stand but Zanrye waved him off. "I just came from a meal actually."

"As good as savory stew cooked with roasted carrots, shallots, and beets?" Gaspard asked.

"Beef and bread, I'm afraid." Zanrye said. Gaspard shook his head at the poor meal. "I actually didn't come for pleasantries."

"Or training I take it." Gaspard said. "You know I start my regiment earlier."

"I know." Zanrye said. "I actually came to talk about the movement of your person and…your troops." At his statement, the Duke snorted derisively and balked at him.

"My troops? Inquisitor, surely you've noticed by now that I have no troops. I have been branded a traitor and left with nothing but what your Inquisition has given me."

"Yes and no." Zanrye said. "You've been left with a banishment from Celene's kingdom and the Orlesian army, branded a conspirator bad at The Game. And yes, you are now without an army that I don't give you. But I've come to tell you that I did exactly that: found you an army. And it's not necessarily one from the Inquisition's stock but one that has agreed to work beneath you to defeat Corypheus."

"And what is the stock of this army?" Gaspard asked.

"They are…more common and less disciplined than you may be used to dealing with." Zanrye said hesitantly. "A band of refugees, some couple hundred people who lost their homes in the civil war between you and Celene. They're led by a Nobleman who established himself in the Dales but came to Court recently after my persuading."

"Oh Lemarque." Gaspard said. "Yes, the one I've been hearing poems about the past four weeks. Some new folk hero come along to woo the court and make them feel even more pompous while they balk at the poor, unfortunate soul."

"And a good leader." Zanrye stressed.

"Yes, yes." Gaspard said, sitting back and appraising Zanrye with those blue eyes of his. "So you wish for me to lead this group I have never met or associated with instead of their chosen leader?"

"I want you to work with their leader." Zanrye corrected him. "I want you to travel to the Dales tonight and do all the pleasantries you have to and then I want to see you on the field when my scouts call in my soldiers and we take whatever it is Corypheus is looking for in the Wilds."

The Duke was slow to respond to him. He eyed Zanrye for a time and then sat back, rocking his chair onto two legs as he did. He had all the grace of a chevalier but all the haughtiness of one too if one could look past the cool, honor-code exterior.

"What is your game now, Inquisitor?" He asked him. "You are not much better at playing than I. I go to war for you, I die in the woods?"

"You think I'd string you along this far just to have you die in the woods?" Zanrye scoffed.

"My execution will be public." Gaspard said. "Those were your words, or do you not remember just some time ago? This will be before these refugees, the Orlesian army, the Inquisition… public would be an understatement."

"You're not useful to me dead," Zanrye replied. "Not even publicly killed by my enemies. That isn't an execution—that would look like an accident."

"A symbol in itself. I am not a fool."

"Let me put your mind at ease." Zanrye said to him, turning to reach into his pack. He pulled out a letter and handed it over to the Duke. "That is the letter of acceptance from Lemarque referring to your position as a general over his army that he will bring to the woods."

"Fairbanks?" Gaspard read the end of the letter. Zanrye had forgotten the man had signed outside of his new noble title.

"That's what he goes by." Zanrye explained. "More refugee than noble."

"So his story tells." Gaspard read it over and then looked up at him. "So you are putting me into the custody of this noble who has been shunned and disgraced by Orlais, welcomed back as a pitiful hero to rise no higher than a Lord…." Zanrye could not stop himself from sighing and nearly rolled his eyes. He stood after that and looked back at the man.

"Come on." He said. Gaspard did not instantly move. "If you don't trust me now, I might as well kill you, Duke. We have to trust each other more than this if we're going to be partners. Haven't I done everything I was said I was going to?" He held up his fingers in turn. "Florianne lives, you have free communications, weapons, and news from the outside world, and I told you I have plans in motion to place you on Orlais' throne, which I haven't gone against." That seemed to do the trick because Gaspard stood and followed Zanrye out the door. The guards parted for them and Zanrye stepped over to where the mages were coming back to him. He had told them this time was coming.

"Now is the time." He told them. "The Duke will leave us."

"Your Worship." They all mumbled. Each mage handed him stones, three of which were covered in dirt whilst the two guards left to fetch Zanrye's horse and the one they had stationed here for themselves and Gaspard should he wish to go riding. Zanrye took the five stones and displayed them before Gaspard.

"These were the runes helping to keep the barriers that disabled you from escaping." Zanrye told him. "This one kept the outside world from seeing you." He dropped one with dirt covering it. "This one kept you from being able to see past a randomized configuration of trees." He dropped that one as well. "This one was to alert the mages and guards of your presence at all times…." The final dirty stone was dropped and now only the two clean ones remained. "This one was to allow my companions to trace you should you escape all of these other limitations…and this one was to allow me to do the same." He placed hands on his hips. "They have all been depowered and rendered useless, dug out from where they laid and taken from myself and my companion." His eyes were clear. "You are free to leave here now, Gaspard de Chalons. And my guards will see you to the Dales where Lemarque awaits you and then they will return to me."

The display made Gaspard speechless for a moment. Zanrye could nearly see the battle in his eyes between belief and disbelief, fear and confidence. After having everything ripped away in a matter of seconds by someone he had underestimated before…. Zanrye inhaled deeply again at this silence.

"I have never betrayed you, Duke." He said. "I sided against you, not betrayed you. Now I side with you—as majority of my council originally wanted." The guards returned with the horses. "I can show you where the stones were buried if that will also help to convince you." Gaspard said nothing. "I'm letting you go free and I need to be able to trust that you'll do what I ask when you get to Fairbanks and that I can count on seeing you at the Wilds when I break ground and head there. I need to trust that you'll do what you do best and leave the rest to me; then make good on your promises after I make good on mine."

He was earnest and sincere. This was the hardest part of their plan, the part they couldn't get around. He was going to have the trust the Duke not to run away from Fairbanks. Zanrye would no longer have eyes or ears on him, no longer be able to keep watch. There was Fairbanks' soldiers but soldiers could be outsmarted….

"She will be there." Gaspard finally spoke. "Celene. She may send a champion but will not doubt accompany you on the first march towards the Wilds at least."

"So she will." Zanrye answered. "And then she'll return home."

"When she sees me—"

"She knows you're still under the protection of the Inquisition." Zanrye said. Gaspard paused again and then chuckled drily.

"You are not at all what I expected Inquisitor Lavellan." Gaspard said. "Even till the end." He reached out a hand that Zanrye took in his own. "We may win this game…together."

"And hopefully it'll be the first and last game we have to play." Zanrye shook.

"Your first." Gaspard reminded him. "But both our last."

* * *

PRESENT

SHRINE OF DUMAT

The group approached the temple with caution. It had to be a small group; anything particularly large would scare Samson off. Zanrye felt a bit uncomfortable as they approached the eerily silent dwellings but said nothing. He trusted Cullen's judgment—the man wanted revenge and would have it. They would come here and do what needed to be done. Yet no faith could still Zanrye's heart as the shrine made his mark buzz. He was no mage but he could feel power here. Whatever Old God used to have his due in this sanctum was more powerful than any elf or human with a sword or staff.

"Alright." Cullen said, whispering here. He dismounted from the horse that brought him. Behind them, Vivienne, Solas, and Cassandra followed suit. Cole had also come along but was far ahead of them, teleporting to where he could "feel the hurt." It covered a lot of ground but set them down a man.

"Are you sure this is his base of operations?" Zanrye asked. Cullen had informed him that he'd closed in on Samson, tracking him here. Seeing the cold, unwelcoming landscape before them made Zanrye think otherwise. _It's too quiet…._

"Sure of it—he and Maddox will be here." Cullen pressed stubbornly, voice snapping. He cleared his throat as an apology but Zanrye was not bothered. He knew Cullen would be going through withdraws since his decision to stop taking lyrium. It was a hard thing—a brave one. _But after a few months, no more of that,_ Zanrye reasoned, _He'd better re-shape-up by then_.

"He might have spotted us." Cassandra volunteered. "He may have fled—what was that?"

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, the abomination was on them. A red Templar—a horror. Zanrye felt Solas's shield surround him and drew his sword, not even thinking before he charged forward, Cassandra at his side. The claws raked at him and he sidestepped, his agility increased by the dragon blood. He was warmer but not too hot. He was learning how to control it better now.

The horror suffered a blow by Cassandra's blade, followed by another from Cullen which sunk deep into it and was dislodged when Cullen's shield sent the beast flying back. The team moved forward, the battle pushing them toward the venatori guards and more abominations that sought to stop them from entering. Zanrye cupped his greatsword like a bat and threw his full weight into the swing, arching the steel across the torso of the first guard and clipping the arm of the abomination beside her.

The entrance was theirs in a few minutes but Vivienne stopped them before they could go forward, slapping salve onto the cut Cassandra had earned from her position at the front.

"He knew." She said simply. Zanrye did not have to question who the 'he' was.

"And that means he might have run, like Cass said." Zanrye said after a pause. Cullen's jaw worked, his expression unreadable.

"It was the mercenaries." He decided. "We attacked too many of them. It tipped him off…." The sentence was not directly accusing but Zanrye knew that that was his part in this,

"I was as discreet as I could be when tasked with robbing random mercenary bands, Cullen." He defended himself. Cullen did not answer, instead walking to the door. Zanrye narrowed his eyes but said nothing. A roar from inside set him to purpose. Cullen had his shield up and was staring down a giant, red, glistening behemoth. The red lyrium it wore as skin was so bright that it almost hurt to look at. It's huge fist was reeled back, going to bring the full force down onto the Commander. Zanrye skifted forward; Cullen rolled away, quite deftly in such thick armor, and slashed at the thing's leg. Red lyrium shards came away from it but that did not stop its assault.

"Maker," he heard Cassandra mutter in exhaustion as she took up dancing with he and Cullen. The three of them darted around the monster, the shields from Solas and Vivienne shimmering around them as they launched their spells at the beast, doing what damage they could. Zanrye dove forward at the monster and cleaved as big a piece as he could when he felt the air near his ear become tight and shrill. He stumbled further away.

"Archers!" He alerted his group. Of course there were guards in here as well.

"I'll take care of them!" Solas began. There was a pause, filled with nothing but swords clanging against rock and thunderous crashes as the beast flailed about. Solas's voice came again, "Cole has it!"

Zanrye looked up to see the throats of all five guards gush forward as they began to bleed out. Cole materialized farther, near the horrors, jumping down to give them attention. Cassandra shouldered Zanrye backward, unsteadying him and saving him from a club to the head by the behemoth. He righted himself and drew upon the surging fire in his veins to swing his sword upward and cleave off a boulder of rock from the monster's leg and then smash his leg into the remaining portion. The behemoth rocked unsteadily, still reaching out with its limbs, and sagged on one side, allowing Cullen to find purchase and drive his sword deep into its weak point near the front and pull. He created a cavern in the monster that Cassandra filled with her own sword and Zanrye filled his. The create made no more sound after that.

Zanrye put his weapon in its hilt, panting, before he finally took in the room around him. The big, marble structure gave off slight blueish, redish light and now had the corpses of man and abomination alike in the wake of Cole as he made his way through. Zanrye was impressed but could not take his eyes off of the fire and smoke that marred the austerity and beauty of the place.

"He burned everything." He said in disbelief.

"Asked his troops to sack his holdings for him since he didn't have time to do it himself." Cullen said darkly. His arms were crossed as he descended the first set of stairs. Zanrye watched him walk, still flabbergasted.

"It is tragic." Solas said after a time. "For the history of this place…the meanings it held—the power. For it to be destroyed, nothing but that which can help him cause destruction being saved."

"Don't be so surprised." Vivienne shook her head. "He is a coward and a thief."

"Vivienne." Cassandra said sternly, "No." When Vivienne's hand went to her hip, the posture that was the harbinger for her brutal redresses, Zanrye also touched her arm.

"The Commander." He mumbled to her. Vivienne looked to where Cullen was walking now a distance ahead of them. She seemed to be debating and then shrugged.

"I understand." She said. "There is a time for honesty…and another for subtlety."

The rest of the group followed behind Cullen, walking past the arrays of blood and guts, kicking away stray chunks of stone. The fire pits were everywhere, with little or nothing that could be seen that was not a part of the kindling. Zanrye had to cover his mouth to avoid the intense smoking that now filled the area, unable to get out through the far front door.

"Inquisitor." Vivienne said softly, catching the attention of all. On the floor, next to a giant red lyrium harvest and a desk, sat a man with brown hair and mage robes, as well as a sun on his forehead. _A tranquil_.

"It's Maddox." Cullen confirmed. His brow furrowed as he began to take in the state of the man, the way he was slumped there, the faint trickle of blood on his lips. "Something's wrong. I'll send for the healers."

"That would be a waste, Captain Cullen." Maddox said, his voice so calm that Zanrye shivered and looked away as he stood over where Cullen kneeled. "I drank my entire bightcap essence. It won't be long now." Zanrye's eyes widened, just as Cullen's did.

"Why?" Cassandra demanded.

"We just wanted to ask you questions Maddox." Zanrye said, truthfully.

"That is what I could not allow." Maddox explained, his eyes continuing to lose their focus as he laid there, dying. "I destroyed the camp with fire." He did not say this proudly, nor did he speak with remorse. "We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape."

"You threw your lives away for Samson?" Cullen was breathless, face scrunched as though he wanted to both cry and hit Maddox square in the face. "Why!?"

"Samson saved me even before he needed me." Maddox said sleepily. He was breathing deeper now. "Even before he needed me." Whether the blightcap took him right then or if he decided not to answer any longer, Zanrye stood by and watched as the tranquil leaned his head to the side and go silent, whispering the words, "I…wanted to help."

Zanrye couldn't find anything to say as the man died right in front of them. He did not know what he expected for this mission weeks in the planning but certainly not…not this.

"Are you…going to make it? Emotionally?" Zanrye asked Cullen, unsure how to better phrase the question. "I mean, I know you aren't alright…." The blonde man's jaw was tight and his throat bobbed ceaselessly as he gnawed on all he had been told.

"We should search the camp." Is what he finally decided on. "In case he missed something."

He didn't say any more and it was a quiet search, filled only by Cullen's muttering and commentary on the notes and failed projects they encountered. They came across Maddox's work station and picked up what looked like a metallic, thin, part hammer part arrow.

"Maybe Dagna can make sense of these as well." Cullen said. "Maybe of some use to us."

"I'm sure she will. She's been doing it." Zanrye said. Cullen nodded with a small smile and led them out the way they came.

* * *

PRESENT

SKYHOLD

The greeting he received when Zanrye reached Skyhold the following morning was a morbid one, not welcoming. There was a tangible feeling of worry in the air, as reports came back in to and fro.

"Scouts have made contact, ser."

"Corypheus has indeed been searching the woods, throwing my agents off the trail, making us think he was running."

"Dagna has the rune. She's been working tirelessly with what Maddox left behind."

"Tiana sends her regards."

The notes bombarded him with information, information that was critical to what came next. Zanrye hadn't realized that he'd been avoiding thinking about it, shying away from the thought that he might in fact…. _This could be the end_ , he thought. _This could be it_. He passed off boards of reports and notes back to the scouts that handed them to him. He convened with Cassandra, hoping that she would relay the information to Cullen—to whom he didn't wish to speak until it was time to.

Zanrye looked out the window of the grand hall, through the patterned Andrastian glass that was so familiar to him now. The nobles still in his halls went by, nodding to him and smiling. They did not have to worry about the danger. It was no longer their burden to bear but Zanrye's, the Herald of Andraste—the herald of the Divine and her spirit. The Herald of Corypheus.

He needed to be ready, to make sure everything could be alright. He went to his quarters and adorned his loose cloth pants and sleeveless flaxen shirt; he grabbed a hooded cloak right before his exit. Ducking through the still-ruined portion of the trail to his room, Zanrye crept down to the gardens and shifted through the weeds, avoiding the prayers and the hugs as the word began to spread through the ranks of their imminent march. He could not have the garden to himself. There were no hours for it now, and the other members needed it more than he did. The back of Skyhold could not be penetrated and Zanrye straightened and walked by the front, nodding at the guards who did indeed recognize him. They must have wondered what he was going but he did not tell them.

Once across the bridge, Zanrye finally sighed and let the frown come to his face.

"Battalion from home," he muttered as he stalked through the grassy mountains that sloped down into woodsy area. "Fairbanks and his people, more from Biloro, Orlais' army." He stopped at a small parting in the forests. "Inquisition."

He inhaled deeply and walked to clearing, standing still and centering himself. He slowly stretched out his arms and his legs, throwing off the cloak. He breathed steady and deep, thought going through his mind. _Wycome…Fairbanks…Biloro…Orlais…Inquisition_. The list of all that would assault these wilds—the people who would risk their lives to end this breach and its threat for the last time.

He dropped to his palms, hands firm in the ground. He sunk down, feeling his muscles bend with the action but not resist it. He rose and repeated, the pushup number stacking. _2…20…40_.

When had he cared about death this much? He remembered the night he, Po, and Shia when they dropped on those unsuspecting humans, snatching their goods and killing them, making their elven attendants flee. What happened to those elves? Had they joined the Dalish? Fallen further into poverty? He remembered the time that he risked his life to save a spirit for Solas—a spirit! He'd let Solas kill the mages, who'd imprisoned it, unwitting and seeking only protection. He'd gone willingly to the Winter Palace, willingly to Crestwood and the Approach and the Hinterlands. But this time was different. Why was it different?

Zanrye sunk down and popped up when his arms straightened, his knee helping to push him to his feet. He rolled his arms, stretching them, seeing how the taught muscle responded positively to the abuse. He could feel the fire in his veins, the lust there as well.

He reached back, eyeing a nearby tree, skin vibrating. He was bare-fisted. He balled a fist, drew it back, breaking into a run, and swung his arm at the tree, watching as bark splintered off of it, the size of his hand and more as the fire he felt in his body manifested around his fist. It was like Solas's shield but red, like a claw raking at whatever he was punching. He drew back, examining the hand. The flesh was sore but not broken, even though the tree's own flesh was sadly broken.

 _My family, my friends, my allies, my empire…my Inquisition_. Zanrye let the thoughts go through his head as he drew back and clawed again, the blood of the dragon aiding him again and cleaving nearly all the way through the thick trunk.

They would be facing more than just some ghouls and monsters. They would be facing him—Corypheus. Zanrye felt his gut twist, growling as he assaulted another tree. Despite what people believed about Haven and his escape and the miracle savior he was, Zanrye knew the truth. Corypheus was a demon, a magister, probably a faux God in some way. He had power that was unimaginable—power that his servants like Alexius and Erimond and demon Lucius were pale comparisons of. And whatever he sought in the woods—the eluvian that would put him a breath away from the Heavens—would create a mess that Zanrye didn't think they could fix.

"You are difficult to track down." Solas said. The man stood near the side of an unmolested tree. He had a cloak of his own, staff lazily draped to the side as he smiled at Zanrye. Zanrye scoffed and rose from his stance, turning.

"I didn't want to be found." Zanrye said.

"You preferred the company of the trees to that of your Inquisition." Solas observed. "War is upon us soon."

"War and so much else, Solas." Zanrye corrected, face glum. He reached to his side and realized he'd forgotten to bring a water flask. Sighing, he looked to the taller man. "Do you have?"

"I'm afraid not." Solas said lightly. "I did not think to find you…exercising."

"Where'd you think to find me?"

"Strolling, pondering, with the serious, boyish expression you always carry when you are unsure." Solas chuckled, walking over to him. Zanrye sighed, looking out into the sky.

"I'm not unsure just…." Zanrye didn't want to utter the word but had to. "Afraid." He did not like to admit it. "Afraid even though I've come this far."

"Fear is natural." Solas reasoned. "Things in our nature are not discarded, lethalin."

"But it won't help me." Zanrye said back. "It won't get anything done just…."

"Your fears are well formed." Solas said, pacing languidly as he did. "You can speak of them if you wish. Your fear Corypheus—he is a force to be reckoned with, there is no doubt. You fear things going wrong—"

"I'm afraid because I don't know." Zanrye cut him off, not disagreeing with his earlier statements as he did. "I'm afraid because…" he could feel the anger welling in him alongside the salty sorrow in his throat. "This could be it, Solas." Zanrye shook his head, eyeing his friend. "If he succeeds, it could mean…it could mean the end of the world. Really, the end of the world." He sighed, shaking his head and beginning a pace of his own. "It could be the end of everything I've built. Everything I've cared about." He sighed. "I don't want to die—never have. But I've never been…afraid to die. Not until now…not until Corypheus." He turned to look at Solas dead in those blue eyes. "That probably makes no sense…."

"On the contrary." Solas said. He planted his staff in the ground, resting two hands on it as he looked at the darker man. When Zanrye snorted, he gave a smirk. "I've been with you both here and in the fade, lethalin. I've seen you as you tore down our enemies, with absolute certainty. But I've also seen you in your dreams, and at your worst." His smile fell and now he had a look of pondering. "I was with you when you were lost in the snow." He stood up straighter. "I was with you in the fade…at Haven." He paused. "You have always been afraid, lethalin. Maybe not of death but…your life has been filled with fear from the day you were born."

 _From the day I lost my real father_ , Zanrye thought.

"I know you haven't told me all." Solas said. "But to me it seems that Corypheus may be your fears all manifested in one." He shrugged. "He is formidable in his own respects but for you, he may seem like all that you must oppose. It is not unwise to be unsure, Zanrye."

Zanrye took in the counsel of his friend, hearing the words ring true. He looked out onto the mountains and visualized Corypheus coming up them with his enormous dragon on his heels. It made him shiver. The magister, the human with magic who'd breached the heavens and forced his accident onto Zanrye, thus enslaving him with this blasted mark. He had taken Zanrye's arm and with it his life. He was bound to him—a shem, from Tevinter, who wanted little more than to destroy him. Corypheus was powerful, more powerful than anything Zanrye had ever faced. It'd taken an avalanche to simply flee from him; and Zanrye had no more snow, nor power near enough to face against him. He wasn't sure he could fight him; and he was 100% sure he would never be able to flee from him.

"We've only faced his minions," Zanrye said finally. "Not him, each time. Only at Haven did I face Corypheus and that was…a disaster." He frowned.

"We are stronger now." Solas said simply. He gestured to the tree. "A fact nature knows personally." That made Zanrye smile and he wrapped an arm around the taller man.

"I wish you could tell me we'll live Solas." He said. "You're the wisest of us—the smartest of us." He chuckled. "It's like you're living out this age after you've lived out all the others too." He sighed. "I just wish…. I don't always think the best…or act the best, or do the best when I'm this afraid." Solas did not answer immediately and Zanrye shook them out of their talk. He did not want to dwell. He came here to get away from that.

"What did you come here for, friend?" He asked. "Not just to find me for a game of cards."

"I have found the amulet and it has failed." Solas said, his own expression becoming sad.

"I can't take him with us then." Zanrye said, equally sad. "I was hoping, with Cole on our side, we'd have a good sneaker of our own."

"That is not all." Solas said. "He may yet be able to come with us. He…" Solas considered. "There is something hindering the amulet's power—something deep seeded that had effected Cole's very being. He knows where to find this disturbance. But he wants all of us."

"To what?"

"To come with him."

Zanrye frowned.

"To come with him?" He asked.

"This is a very complex, painful process for Cole—something that has gripped him, binded him in a way." Solas explained, earnestly. "He needs for all who were involved to come with him so that he can face this demon from his past." Zanrye groaned.

"This is the type of thing I wanted to get away from." He told Solas.

"You have the mark." He reminded him. "You have the responsibilities. You can't run away from them. If you wish for Cole to be alright—to come with us to this assault—I will need you to attend." Zanrye looked back into the expanse, felt his muscles begin to register their soreness as he broke them apart and reconstructed them through action.

"Alright." He said. "But it can't take long, Solas—"

"It will not." Solas said. "Cole shows the way now. A trip to Redcliffe, then a trip back. It should take us no more than a day."

"Fine. Let's go."

* * *

PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

They reached the village by the afternoon, just as the sun was beginning its slow descent. There was still a lot of activity and very few people noticed Zanrye or his cohorts, no matter how famous he and Varric were.

"So who exactly are we looking for?" Zanrye asked as he smiled at the peddlers selling a number of goods. Solas shrugged.

"We are following Cole's feelings." He said. At Zanrye's look, he smiled small. "We can trust him, lethalin. Cole knows where the breach is, the pain. He can show us."

And Cole did. In a few minutes, the group ascended a flight of stairs next to the wolf statue when he heard Cole whisper "you" with a voice full of accusation.

Before he could discern, Cole was a puff of smoke and forcing the man down onto his knees, fist drawn back. Zanrye was quick to move, eyes wide as he saw calm Cole's eyes filled with rage, his knuckles tight and shaking as spit flew from his lips at this man, who cowered beneath the force.

"Cole!" Zanrye ran after him, with Solas grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.

"Wait." He hissed into Zanrye's ear.

"We can't just—just."

"You forgot!" Cole accused the poor man, with people all around looking away and scurrying to a place that was less loud. A few gave inquisitive stares that Varric waved away, indicating that they would take care of it.

"You locked me in the dungeon in the spire!" Cole continued. "And I died in the dark!"

"Cole." Solas's voice rung with authority but it was not urgent. "Stop."

The pressure of Cole's grasp lessened and the man gave a cry, eyeing the approaching group and Cole with the eyes of someone who just saw an abomination. And then he took off running., Zanrye came beside Cole as Varric stepped in front of him.

"Just take it easy kid." He tried to say.

"He killed me!" Cole shouted like a madman. "He killed me! That's why it doesn't work; he killed me and I have to kill him back!"

"Kill? Cole!" Zanrye grabbed the man's shoulder. "If he killed you, you would be dead."

"Exactly." Solas chimed in. "This man could not have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

"A broken body, bloody, mangled," Cole began to talk gibberish, Zanrye wildly trying to keep up. "They threw him in the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death." His eyes were filled with anxiety, body trembling like a leaf. "I came through to help…I couldn't. So I became him." He whimpered. "Cole…."

"Holy Mythal." Zanrye turned away, mouth covered.

"Cole was an apostate." Varric surmised. "So that man must have been a Templar. Buying lyrium."

"I need to kill him." Cole was walking away.

"Solas, stop him." Zanrye hissed urgently.

"I need to." Cole said. His eyes were somewhere else, far away, as he strode towards the direction where the man was running. He walked slow but with murderous purpose.

"Solas." Zanrye looked to him. "What do we do?"

"We cannot let Cole kill him." Solas reasoned.

"Obviously." Zanrye made a disgusted noise. Sometimes, Solas could be so fade-headed….

"No one was going to suggest that, Chuckles." Varric added.

"Cole's a spirit." Solas continued as though he hadn't heard them. "The murder of the real Cole had wounded him. He's perverted from his purpose. He must regain that part of himself. He must forgive."

"Forgive?" Varric asked. "Come on, you can't just forgive someone killing you."

"You don't." Solas spat. "But a spirit can."

"We don't, Solas." Zanrye corrected him quietly. "W-we. All mortals." Solas leveled a stare that made Zanrye shut up.

"He's just angry." Varric said. "He needs to work through it."

"A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them." Solas' reply came through hard and exact like a book.

"But he isn't a spirit." Varric said. "He made himself human and humans change—hurt and heal."

"You would alter the essence of what he is." Solas said, accusation in his words.

"He did that to himself when he left the fade. I'm just helping him survive it." Varric said.

"So is Cole or isn't Cole a spirit?" Zanrye demanded, head beginning to hurt.

"The real Cole was an apostate it seems." Solas said. "Captured and killed by Templars. The young man's pain caught the attention of a spirit—compassion."

"That's not one you hear everyday." Zanrye said.

"An uncommon one to be sure." Solas nodded. "But real all the same. And all too fragile when its efforts are in vain." He sighed. "I believe I can help." Varric crossed his arms.

"By all means, Solas." Zanrye said. "You know more about this than us."

"Really?" Varric demanded.

"What Varric?" Zanrye asked. "Solas lives in this type of thing. I think it'd be safe to trust his opinion—or Vivienne's—or Dorian's—or someone who actually has experience with this."

"So mages." Varric muttered.

"Mages who study spirits." Zanrye corrected. Solas was already walking towards Cole, taking him away, far along the path as Varric shook his head, leaving Zanrye alone. He knew Varric would get over it but the question was still remaining. Could Cole even become more spirit? Or even human? Spirits weren't human. They couldn't become human, even if Cole had been able to manifest some form of flesh to compliment his existence on this plain. It was too much fade-talk for Zanrye to process and he instead left his thought to wander in the future. Everything was too still to denote the battle that was just over the horizon. Nothing seemed different but him. Corypheus was sneaky and quiet and used proxies but now…now it was the two of them. Now it was him versus Corypheus—all he had built versus all Corypheus had built. Only one would survive it. They were two beings living in the same territory, with no room for that which the other was producing.

The footsteps signaled their approach. Zanrye turned to see Solas and held his breath but soon enough Cole was in his vision as well, with a glowing necklace on. It worked…they'd done it.

"Is everything alright?" Zanrye asked.

"You alright kid?" Varric asked.

"Yes." Cole responded but his voice was different. "He's free. We're both free." He says nothing more and begins his journey back home, not even waiting for them to follow. Zanrye turned to Solas.

"He is as he was." Solas assured him. "Better. More himself."

"He changed." Zanrye noted.

"Changed from what we saw. But not from his true purpose." Solas said. "The amulet is working. Cole will be safe to accompany us."

"Did you hear what he said?" Varric asked. "What he sounds like?"

"Like a spirit." Solas said stiffly. "The man's memory is gone. He has forgotten and his pain no longer pulls on him. Cole is truly free."

Zanrye said nothing, thinking about all that that meant…what, indeed, Cole sounded like.

"He could have been a person." Varric shook his head.

"Possibly." Solas said. "But would he have been happier that way, child of the stone?"

Varric did not say more and neither did Zanrye but the questioned remained. More questions with no answers. Zanrye finally turned away and patted Solas's back, urging him back home. Varric, after a wistful look, followed.


End file.
